Little Wolf
by paigevlindsay
Summary: What if Sansa had not pushed Petyr away? What if she had entertained the idea of fulfilling his dream? Could their relationship possibly flower in a changing Westeros? A continuation of S6E10. Slow Burn.
1. Changing Ambitions

She walked through the snow, feet heavy, mind heavier. They had won, she had acted and they had won, but at what price? Arya was still out there somewhere and Rickon was gone, who knew where Bran was, or even if he was alive. She had won, but they had a long way to go.

When she was a girl, Sansa would watch her Mother retreat to pray. She said it brought her peace and clarity in times of confusion and pain. Prayer was no longer an option for Sansa, the Gods were not with her, even if they were real and this loss of faith brought her both clarity and peace. However, she still sat in the garden used for prayer, still sat there and pondered on what was to come. She had come so far, fleeing from Geoffrey, fleeing from Ramsey, she was a different woman now, a stronger woman. She knew that fairy tales did not exist, that a shining prince would never come to save her, but unlike her younger counterpart, she did not mind so much.

He watched her as she made her way through her castle: Sansa. She was everything he wanted, he knew that now. Before her, his wants and desire were muddied, but now, now he had a goal, a flaming desire that he could not extinguish: her. She was his only way to happiness, the only medium of joy that he would ever be able to feel. When he closed his eyes, he felt his lips on hers, the kiss that they had shared in the Vale. He wished to share countless kisses with those lips. But he did not just want to kiss them, he wished to listen to them, the thoughts and opinions that flowed from them. He wanted her not only as a wife, but as an equal.

She saw him approach, in his black clothes, with his broach gleaming against the snow. He looked reverent, a false reverence, she knew, but reverence nonetheless.  
"I apologise, my lady, if you are at prayer." He called out to her, false pretences of politeness.  
"I am done with such things." She replied. He smiled, hearing the voice of a woman, not a child.  
"I am glad to hear so. The devout let their love of the Gods cloud their judgment. You are superior without it." He cooed to her, standing beside her. She stood to face him, wondering what he could have to say to her.  
"What do you want, Lord Baelish?" She asked and although her question was meant to address the present, it spanned much further than that.  
"I thought you knew what I wanted." He strode slowly towards her.  
"You want whatever suits you best in the moment, I am sure." She replied, sure that she was correct.  
"That is where you are wrong, Lady Sansa. Although this might have been a trait of mine in the past, your entrance into my life has shifted the game most considerably." He reassured her. She pouted, realising that she was wrong.  
"Then what is it that you want?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. He smiled wryly, placing his hands behind his back and leaning his head towards her.  
"Why, I thought it was obvious." He stated, looking down upon her.  
"I am afraid my vision is clouded, my Lord. Would you care to give me the gift of clarity?" She asked, the begging in her voice causing Petyr's mouth to water. He took yet another step forward.  
"I have been watching you, Sansa. You are different. You are stronger, more stubborn than before. I have always watched you, ever since you first appeared in the throne room when you were just a child, so sweet and innocent." He reached out a hand to brush away a hair from her face. She did not put up any resistance.  
"You have always been my little wolf, even then. You drew me in, with those green eyes that never saw enough to protect yourself. But you see now; you see those who are planning to hurt you, those who wish to rid you from the game." He preached to her, causing her to blush. Petyr always had this strange way of making her revert to the little girl who blushed and became flustered around men.  
"Back then, I saw you as a pawn, a piece merely to use for my own gain. But you are my gain, Sansa. When I close my eyes, I have an image in my mind and every choice I make, every option I consider, it is all done with the image of you in my mind. But not as Sansa Stark, the little girl who did not see, but as Lady Baelish, my little wolf." He ran away with his feelings, unsure how she would react.

Sansa was unsure how to feel. Petyr was so much older than her, and he had sold her to Ramsey, a decision that she was unsure she could ever forgive. Yet he made her feel, feel a strange emotion that she had never felt before. She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes out of fear that she might burn up, combust from his gaze. She could never know when he was telling the truth, did he really love her? Could he really love her? She was unsure. But she knew that the only way to convince her would be through his actions, his tireless devotion to her. She was not sure if she would accept him, but he made her feel like that child again, the girl who didn't fear the world the way she did now and that sensation was priceless. She felt him lean in to kiss her, but this was all moving too fast, progressing too quickly. She placed a hand on his chest to halt him, taking deep breaths to contemplate her options.

Petyr immediately halted when he felt her hand on his chest, putting up resistance. He did not want to hurt her or force her into anything that she did not consent to, she had been put through such ordeals enough by her late husband. He would have backed away, leaving her to her own thoughts, if she did not cling to him as she did. He placed a gloved hand on her face, feeling her rest her head into his palm.  
"It is a pretty picture, my Lord" Was all that she said. He smiled softly, watching a tear roll down her cheek.  
"Yes, it is. But is it what you want, Sansa? I hurt you by marrying Ramsey, put you through pain that a fair lady should never endure. For too long have you followed the orders of others, for too long have you not acted of your own volition. Now is the time that you may make the choice for yourself." He reassured her, smoothing her cheek with his thumb.

Sansa was unsure how to feel. Her mind went blank as she was held my Petyr, his hand upon her cheek. She placed her other gloved hand upon his chest and finally looked into his eyes.  
"But the iron throne? The game?" They were not developed questions, but Petyr understood them nonetheless.  
"It was all in pursuit of happiness, my love. I believed that power would make me happy, and I am sure that it would. But you, I can not let you go for a little chair made of swords." He promised her. She searched his eyes for something, for a hint of meddling, a lie. But there was none, his green-grey stare rang true and his soft smile filled her with a strange kind of hope that she deemed inappropriate for the moment. While she was being inappropriate, she thought she might as well let it run its course. She leant up to his cheek and placed a swift kiss to the skin there. She heard Petyr suck in a breath, shocked by her forward action and was shocked herself when he did not let her go. He placed his grip onto the tops of her forearms and kept her face close, close enough to feel her breath on his lips. He would not make the first move, he would not enforce himself upon her. Sansa was nervous, knowing that Petyr was waiting for her to show her consent. In the end, Petyr was a constant in her life. High born men came and went, husbands drifted by, but he was there, always. He had never raised a hand towards her and had never said a bad word against her, she could do far worse. So, she raised her lips up to his and let him do the rest. She felt a kind of solace in his kiss. His lips were chapped and cold, but he was like Winterfell, her home, the place where she truly felt safe. She was not accepting him outright, merely opening the idea to see how things would develop.

Petyr rejoiced, he was in disbelief that Sansa was going to entertain the idea of marriage where he was concerned. He had loved her Mother, that was for sure, but Sansa had admirable qualities that her Mother lacked. She was far superior and he would work to ensure that she knew so. He broke the kiss with her petal lips and pulled her close, her head against his chest in a protective embrace.  
"You have always been mine, little wolf. And I will prove to you that in all of the world, with all of its riches and thrones, you are the prize that I seek most." He whispered down to her, placing one last kiss onto her lips.  
"You are cold, let us return to the fire and warmth." He took her hand and began leading her back to the castle. She was unsure what lay ahead, but she was sure that it would involve him: Petyr Baelish and of this she could not decide whether she was glad or not, but she was sure that only time could decide on that matter.


	2. Evening by the Fire

Sansa had readily humoured the idea that Petyr cared for her. She thought it easier to believe than to live her life a skeptic where he was concerned. He sat with her at dinner and they spoke low about the local houses, those who had sworn allegiance and those that hadn't. Sansa hoped that this would become a common occurrence, as she enjoyed his voice low in her ear and his strong peppermint breath brushing against her skin.  
"Do you like the pie?" He asked, completely out of the blue. Sansa took a moment to process the question, after their heavy talk about war.  
"Yes, pork is my favourite meat, my Lord." She replied, hoping that her answer would suffice.  
"I shall have to remember that. Perhaps I can see what the lemon cake situation is in the North." He whispered against her ear and she couldn't help but lick her lips, remembering the sweet tangy taste of lemon cakes.  
"I would be very grateful, my Lord." She replied, no louder than a whisper. If she had it her way, they would have continued whispering about trivial things. But people began to look and Petyr was not ready to be taken for any less than an honourable man, so he pulled away and focused on his meal.

To watch Sansa lick her lips at the idea of lemon cakes brought Petyr a delight he had not felt in an age. The glint in her eye was reminiscent of the innocence that had always been infused in her personality. She was not the same woman, but it was obvious that that innocence was still buried deep in there, somewhere. Their conversation had gone well and he was delighted to see Sansa open herself up to him, to allow him to sit so close and to speak with her in such a public setting. He knew it would take time, but it was time well spent.  
"Would you sit with me after dinner?" He asked her and she did no more than nod. But this was enough for Baelish, enough to show that she was willing to spend her time with him where she could have been spending it doing something else with someone else.

After dinner, Sansa led Petyr to her personal quarters that she had been assigned by Jon. It was a well sized room to entertain guests, with a large fire that kept its occupants warm. Sansa opened the door for Petyr, locking it behind, so no maids nor visitors could enter. Petyr noticed the gesture and smiled to himself, glad that she wished for their time to be uninterrupted. They sat together, in the two large plush chairs and stared at the fire.  
"Winter is here." Petyr remarked, watching Sansa remove some of her furs.  
"Yes it is, but the fire is warm and so am I." She retorted. Petyr fell silent, watching the little minx kick off her shoes and curl up into her chair. Petyr wandered lazily over to the wine that Sansa had on her table. He poured two goblets, before returning and placing one into her hand.  
"Thank you." She whispered, putting the cold metal to her lips.

Petyr was unsure what to speak about at first. Life had changed so much for Sansa that he was unsure what she even enjoyed anymore.  
"We miss you at the Vale. The walls are empty without your beautiful voice." He remembered her singing in the late afternoon, with her tutor instructing her. Sansa's voice was sweet and gilded, Petyr could have listened to it for all of winter.  
"I miss the Vale. Although it was a time of struggle, I enjoyed my life there. My hobbies, those that have fallen away with necessity." She thought aloud wistfully, mourning her feminine talents that she had had to give up in times of war.  
"Perhaps you should take up one of your hobbies again? You have time now and an occupation might help you with the trauma you have endured." Petyr suggested. He honestly thought it a fine plan to encourage Sansa to take up an occupation once again. She had endured so much and she deserved a break, time to indulge in a selfish occupation. One that could be only for her, for her enjoyment.  
"Perhaps I shall start my needlepoint once more. That would be practical as well as enjoyable." Sansa proposed.  
"I think that a fine idea. Your needlework was always the finest in King's Landing." He complimented her and once again she blushed.

They spent the rest of the evening speaking reverently about the catastrophe in King's Landing.  
"I just can not fathom how one could kill so many of her people." Sansa mused.  
"I can. I have met Cersei and from what little knowledge I have of the workings of her mind she would do anything for the people she loves. And the person that Cersei loves the most is Cersei." He stated reverently. He could have easily been in that sept, with those people. Cersei had gone too far and Petyr was sure that she had tempted fate this time and that her rule would short lived.  
"Loras, Margaery, the Lord of Highgarden, these were all people I knew and cared for. And then Tomen, the king! Cersei could not have done this for him, I can not believe it." Sansa exploded in emotion. Petyr was impressed. He was glad that she was so angry, anger against such evil was natural and healthy for any sane person.  
"I daresay I agree with you, my love, her only motivation for her actions was that of selfishness." Petyr shook his head.  
"Well, now she is queen and she has gotten what she wanted. So I suppose it is not our place to judge her and her actions when they have aided her in achieving her goal." Sansa's voice was filled with sadness, thinking about King's Landing under the control of Cersei.  
"Perhaps my dear, but at what price?" He asked her. Cersei had lost her children, the only thing she professed to care for. What did she have left, a crown? But that would come and go like the wind and then what would she have?  
"It grows late and I do not wish to sadden you further. Come, let me escort you to your room." Sansa smiled at Petyr, feeling tired herself.

Petyr walked with his arm locked in Sansa's. She had adorned her furs again to fight the chilling cold, but Petyr still relished the sight of her throwing them to the side in the warmth of the fire in his mind. He knew she was unsure about him and his intentions and he was glad. Any respectable girl should be weary about a man professing love for them. If Sansa had willingly thrown herself at him, he would have been surprised and slightly disappointed, but as things went, she acted quite the lady and for that he was proud. Once they got to her door, Sansa and Petyr stood opposite one another, Sansa looking up into his eyes.  
"Good night, Lord Baelish. I hope your slumber is restful." She bid him farewell, but before she could enter her chambers, Petyr leant down and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek, so close to her mouth that she felt her knees go weak. When he finally released her from his trance, he whispered:  
"I am in a meeting with Lord Snow tomorrow, so I shall not see you until the afternoon. Begin the needlework for me, will you?" He asked and she nodded. He smiled and placed a hand upon her cheek, watching her lean into his touch, before turning and leaving her.

When Sansa entered her room, her maid, Gretchen was waiting for her. She was slender with mousy hair and dull skin, but she worked hard and she had worked for Sansa during her time with Ramsey, which in turn produced a bond between them that was restored once Sansa had returned.  
"Could you do me a favour and fetch me some needlework equipment?" She asked her.  
"If the hour is too late, I understand." She added, not wanting to sound like a petulant child.  
"Of course, my lady. House Mormont gifted you new equipment upon your return to Winterfell." Sansa smiled and changed as the girl left. She would work through the night, sewing. Not so much for Petyr as for herself. He had ignited a flame of selfish desire within her and she felt the need to spread her artistic wings and produce something that she could present to him in pride. She worried that she had reverted to the young girl who doted after her men. But he had doted after her for as long as he had known her, or so he said. A small gift in return would not do too much harm, she was sure.


	3. Knowledge is Power

Jon noticed that Sansa had been spending more time with Petyr Baelish. He didn't disapprove as such. But when he saw them talking low at dinners or when he watched Sansa lead him into one of the closed quarters, he felt a strange protective nature over her. Baelish had saved them against Ramsey, but was he good enough for his sister? Jon wasn't so sure. They sat in their meeting, the two men. He had been eager to be alone in the company of Lord Baelish, hearing much about his character, not all good, but nothing to slander his name past redemption.  
"What is it that you want, Jon Snow?" Baelish asked, setting a foundation for their conversation.  
"I wish to remain King of the North and protect my people." He replied, his voice filled with honour and truth.  
"I see. And you do not wish for more? You are a fine young man, a claim to the iron throne would not be out of your reach." Baelish complimented the King, wanting to make out his character, to discover if he was a greedy man or not.  
"No, I do not. The North is my home. I desire nothing less than to sit on that sword throne, waiting for someone to kill me again. My people need me here, not in King's Landing." Jon replied. Petyr was impressed, Jon might have been the first honest man he had ever met who deemed himself happy with his lot. But he had died and been resurrected, perhaps life itself was enough for Jon Snow.

Petyr asked him further questions, mostly about his strategies and his plan when it came to the future of the North.  
"I shall prepare my people for battle, for the true war that shall rise this winter. I want my people to be safe, to not worry about their children or their wives. They are good people and they deserve that at least." Petyr nodded, furrowing his brow. It was a true shame that he did not desire to become king, for Jon had all of the amiable qualities that a ruler should possess.  
"And what is it that you want, Lord Baelish?" Jon asked, cocking his head to the side and raising his eyebrows.  
"I want what any man wants: a loving wife, healthy children and for the future of my house to be secure." Petyr paraphrased how he had confessed to Sansa, knowing that as the head of the Stark house, he would have to receive Jon's blessing to marry Sansa if he were so lucky to win her affections.  
"I think you have your eyes on a specific woman to become your wife, to bear your children, my Lord." Jon toyed with him, enjoying having the famous manipulator in the palm of his hand.  
"Your sister is a fine woman, my King. Any man would become the luckiest in the seven kingdoms were he to gain her affections." He looked down to his hands, feeling embarrassed and nervous for the first time since the last winter.  
"You sound like a poet, Lord Baelish. My sister likes poetry." He stated, as if he were winding the screw in Baelish's mind.  
"I do not object the match. If you are Sansa's choice then it is you that she shall have. She has never had a happy marriage, first with the Lannister and then with Bolton the torturer, her idea of marriage is shrouded in violence and humiliation. If you can change that then I give you every blessing." Jon concluded, grinning down at Baelish.  
"I shall try my best, my King." He bowed his head, a weight having been lifted from his shoulders. Jon would not get in the way of his courting Sansa, and this was a great relief.  
"I think it is time for food, come, we shall dine together." Jon called to Baelish, leading him to the dining hall.

Sansa had worked tirelessly through the night, sewing and stitching in tones of grey and blue. She was unaware quite what she was creating, until she looked at her final stencil, before beginning the product. The image depicted a mockingbird, sat upon the shoulder of a direwolf. To some it would merely be a pretty piece of art. But to those knowing few, her needlework was a statement, Sansa saying loud and clear that the Baelish and Stark houses could be one in the future. After finishing, she was exhausted, so she covered herself in her creation and planned to sleep until noon.

Petyr sat with Jon and his subjects at luncheon, but couldn't help noticing the absence of a particular Stark. He did not want to say anything, out of fear of drawing attention to himself and the affection he felt for Sansa. So, instead, he merely slipped away after he had finished with his meal and made his way to her room, to ensure she was in good health.

He stood by her door and knocked once. Upon heeding no reply, he knocked again and when, at the third knock she did not answer, he permitted himself entry. He feared that he might not find her there, that she might have fled in the middle of the night. But no, there she laid, her hair spread on the pillow like fire licking the fabric. And draped over her body was a work of fine art, that Petyr did not fully appreciate until he looked closer. He felt his breath leave him, the mockingbird and direwolf together, created by Sansa's hand. He could not believe his eyes. He thought her fond of him, perhaps, but this exceeded anything he could have imagined. She had worked throughout the night on this product of beauty. His heart swelled with pride and admiration, witnessing the true extent of Sansa's affections. She began to stir, waking from her slumber. Petyr knew that this was no place for him to be, so took himself away; a smug smile gracing his face as he walked through the halls, setting himself up in one of the rooms reserved for guests, waiting for her patiently.

Sansa awoke in the middle of the day, when the sun was at its highest and shone brightest on the white virgin snow. She furrowed her brows, breathing intensely, in an attempt to identify the foreign smell in her room. It was peppermint and pine, faint but detectable. She shook her head, deciding that the smell was not of any consequence and began her morning routine. Once she was dressed, she folded the quilt into a square and held it tightly. She wondered if it was too obvious. If he would take this as an open invitation. But no, he would understand the subtle gesture and take it for what it was and nothing more. Sansa had asked Gretchen the whereabouts of Lord Baelish. She had informed her that he was in the guest parlor. So, Sansa made her way, her entire body shaking out of nervousness and fear.

Petyr waited in the guest's parlor, hoping that Sansa would arrive shortly. He closed his eyes and remembered her in slumber, her face soft and her hair strewn over the pillow, devoid of all the pain that she had felt, completely pure. He longed to see her without pain whilst awake. He was determined to tend to her wounds and aid her recuperation, until she felt like herself again. Petyr thought back to what Jon had said, that this time, her husband would be Sansa's choice. This was a relief as he would not have to spend his time devoted to wooing Jon into letting him marry her; more so spend his time doing what he truly wanted: spending time with Sansa.

Sansa's hand shook as she raised it to knock on the door. Her breath was heavy and her fingers trembled. A moment later, he was at the door, welcoming her into the room. They sat in opposing chairs and looked at one another for a brief moment. She was dressed in a forest green gown, which Petyr mentally remarked complimented her eyes beautifully. Petyr sat in grey, as opposed to his usual noir wardrobe and Sansa decided that it suited him well, complimenting the sliver that ran through his hair. She held the quilt nervously, wondering if he would appreciate it, or sling it aside, never to be looked at again. Whatever the outcome, it was his to have, so she had to muster the courage to give the gift. She took a deep breath and began:  
"Lord Baelish, I have taken your advice and began sewing again. I-I made you this quilt, as a token of thanks to you, for your help to both myself and my house in our time of need." She passed over the quilt, partly glad to be rid of it. Petyr unfurled it before her, his silver ring gleaming in the light. She heard him gasp, letting herself indulge in a moment of pride. Petyr stared at the quilt, in both shock and awe. His view of it that morning did it no justice. In the light, the wolf shone in tones of grey and blue, and the eye of the mockingbird stared at Petyr with a look that suggested he knew everything going on in his mind.  
"Knowledge is power." He whispered to himself, unaware of Sansa's presence in the room for a moment.  
"And winter has come, my Lord." She replied, pulling Petyr back to reality. He placed the quilt onto his lap and looked up to Sansa. On her face lay a humble soft smile that left Petyr speechless.  
"Sansa, I do not know what to say." He murmured to her. Sansa thought this very out of character for Petyr Baelish, as he always knew exactly what to say.  
"You need not say anything, my Lord. Your reaction is praise enough." He smiled and nodded to her, sure that she was right.  
"Would you like to walk with me, Lady Stark? The day is fine and we need not waste it sat in this room all day." He asked, wanting to leave the close stuffy room.  
"Yes, of course, my Lord, I would be delighted." She replied and they stood together, leaving the room.

Sansa walked slower than Petyr, so his pace slowed considerably when walking with her, wanting to be considerate. He took her to the door of his room and paused for a moment.  
"I shall set this down on my bed, and shall not slumber without it." He reassured her, placing a hand to her cheek, which blushed deeply, then retreated into his room. Part of Sansa wanted to look, to see what Lord Baelish's room was like, whether he was messy or tidy. Whether he kept the blinds drawn or open. But no, it would not be proper for a Lady to glance upon a man's quarters. She sighed and resigned herself to the pompous rules that denied her her curiosity.

Petyr soon returned and they walked through the gardens of Winterfell. With the snow on the ground and the biting cold in the air, Sansa was reminded of that day in the Vale, that day when he first kissed her. Petyr noticed her blush as they walked silently through the gardens, unaware of its source.  
"My Lady, are you cold? Your cheeks are flushed." He placed a hand to her cheek and found her rather warm, smiling to himself. Sansa was unsure whether she should admit her thoughts to him or whether she should keep them to herself and profess that yes, she was rather cold. But that would result in their going inside and Sansa did not want that. She was tired of constantly weighing up her options, and decided the be truthful.  
"I was thinking back to the Vale, when it was in snow, my Lord." She stated and watched him smile, in a way that she couldn't quite understand.  
"Ah yes, we walked many a time in those gardens in snow. It reminded you of being here, didn't it, my little wolf?" He stopped for a moment, placing a hand onto Sansa's forearm.  
"Yes my Lord, the Vale in snow is much like Winterfell. It was one of my only pleasures then." She said to him, looking up with wide eyes.  
"I remember that day, I spoke of your Mother. Perhaps that was not the right thing to do, I see that now. I feel that the love I had for her is dwarfed by what I feel in this moment. Looking at you, you are so much more than she was." He placed a palm onto her cheek. Sansa was both complimented and offended by this statement, but decided to be pleased nonetheless.  
"Lord Baelish, I-" Before she could finish his lips were on hers and she could not help but melt into his touch, into his kiss. His hand found the small of her back and pulled her close.  
"I told you, Sansa. Call me Petyr." He reminded her, with the same words that he spoke that day.

He broke the kiss far before Sansa was ready, but she was glad that he did, needing to assess her emotions and motives that had made her feel this way. The tables had turned and it was her yearning for him rather than the opposite. She was not comfortable with this, feeling weak and out of control. He had her right where he wanted her and this had to be changed.  
"I have a meeting with my brother, Lord Baelish. I shall see you at dinner." Before he could reply, she fled, her heart pounding in her breast and her resolve changing. She would become distant from now on, make him chase her. It was the only way to know if his feelings were true, and Sansa needed to know, for knowledge most certainly was power.


	4. Playing Games

Petyr watched her leave. He wondered what had made her panic, what made her flee in such a manner. He kissed her, no doubt. But he had kissed her many a time before and she had not fled. He was unsure and this uncertainty brought with it an unnerved feeling of the unknown.

Sansa sat with Jon in their small comfortable room. He did not wish to speak of tactics or war games with her, he had done too much of that already. His time with Sansa was his opportunity to unwind, to speak of truly unimportant things, subjects of little consequence, but entertaining nonetheless.  
"What is going on with you and Baelish, Sansa?" He asked her, wanting to hear her side of the events.  
"I hardly know myself, Jon. He seems kind and loving. But this is Petyr Baelish, the same man that sold me the Ramsay Bolton, the same man who left me to be raped and tortured. He can come and profess his love, but until he proves himself, I simply can not trust him." She said to him, clearing her own mind on the subject.  
"I am glad you feel this way, sister. Only a fool would trust Baelish blindly, and you are no fool. He speaks in pretty words but you must wait and see if there is any meaning behind them before you rush into something." He reassured her.  
"You are quite right, brother. May I sit with you at dinner this evening? We have not sat together in so long." She asked, wanting to be away from Lord Baelish to prove her point to him that she was not so easily conquered.  
"Of course, Sansa." He replied and just like that their conversation moved onto the supposed affair of the stable boy and her Gretchen.

Petyr sat at dinner and looked across the table at Sansa, laughing and joking with her brother. He ground his teeth. It should be he who she was joking with, laughing with, not them. But no, of course she could sit with her brother after sitting for so many nights with him. Petyr felt ashamed of himself, allowing his pride to be wounded by jealousy of her brother of all men. If it were a knight or a flowery man from King's Landing, he could understand his jealousy, but her brother? He was in no way a threat and Petyr had to check himself.

He watched her leave, in that beautiful green gown. Just as she was leaving the hall, she turned and peaked at him with a small, supposedly subtle glance. When he caught her, she quickly turned away, walking with perfect posture. So that was how she wanted to play. She wanted to play a game with Petyr Baelish? Well, he was sure that she would find herself quite taken aback, playing with the likes of Lord Baelish.

She shouldn't have looked back. Sansa sighed, scolding herself. She wanted to ignore him completely, but she just couldn't help herself. She shook her head, feeling utterly ashamed. Did she honestly have feelings for Petyr Baelish? Could she truly love such a man? She was unsure, but her dreams that night were shrouded in a grey green haze and an aroma of peppermint. She could not even sleep without him invading her mind. She was lost, utterly lost , she was sure.

Sansa spent the next day with an old friend, one of the girls from the Karstark family. Freda was pretty and good company. She and Sansa had played when they were young and had found each other's company incredibly enjoyable. They sat in the middle of the dining hall, on a blanket and spoke of boys and songs, as they had when they were young.  
"Do you know who I like? That man you sit with sometimes at dinner. What is his name? B-"  
"Baelish, Lord Baelish." Petyr happened to be walking past the hall on a leisurely stroll and heard the girls, so decided to linger and listen in.  
"He is handsome and clever, and something about the way he talks is so alluring." The unknown voice praised him and he smiled, puffing his chest, feeling inflating with pride.  
"I suppose, if you like that kind of man." Petyr chuckled to himself. She knew he was there, or one of his minions. She was playing the game and he was more than willing to play along.  
"What kind of man do you like, Sansa?" The girl asked and Petyr pricked up his ears.  
"I like the valiant kind of man. Sir Jaime Lannister is very handsome as was Loras Tyrell, seven blessings to his name." Sansa replied and Petyr now knew for certain that she was playing with him. As he knew for a fact that she found the Kingslayer repulsive and that Loras was far from her tastes now. He did not stay to listen further, he walked and concocted a plan to counter Sansa's move.

Dinner soon rolled around and the maiden Karstark had stayed after her time with Sansa. Petyr had sought her out, asking Gretchin who Sansa was spending her time with and invited her to sit with him. She had been delighted and flattered and although she was quite dull and obscenely hot headed, the Karstark girl would work for Petyr's move.

Sansa sat at dinner, once again with Jon and watched her friend, one of her dearest friends, flirt and toy with Lord Baelish. She sighed as he indulged her, Sansa knew that his infatuation with her would only last so long and Freda had made her approval of him so obvious. At least now she knew, she knew that he did not care for her. But the more she heard Freda giggle and the more she saw him toy with her hair, an anger grew within her. She was jealous. It was an emotion that she had not truly felt before. She could feel her face begin to redden and felt tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them back, not wanting to seem weak in front of everyone. All it took was for one last outburst of laughter from Freda Karstark for Sansa to abandon her food.  
"I am not feeling well, Jon." She murmured. He nodded then watched as she left the hall, attempting to seem as calm as possible, although a storm of anger and frustration was building within her.

Petyr smiled as she left. He knew now, knew that she cared. For if she had not become angry and left in a fit of rage, it would have proved her indifference. But she had shown hatred towards him and the line between hate and love was drawn thinly. He caught a glimpse of Jon's disapproving glare and went after her. He apologised to Freda, but insisted that he had important business to attend to. He then walked at pace after Sansa. He knew the route to her bedchamber and knew that he could catch her up if he walked at quite a pace.

Sansa was determined not to cry until she was in the comfort of her quarters, she was unsure of who could be roaming the hallways and an explanation would be more tiresome than simply holding her emotions back for a few moments. She got to her door and fiddled to unlock the key from her necklace, now was the moment when the tears began to fall, her frustration made it impossible to remain calm. It was during this struggle, Petyr found her and approached her silently. Then, suddenly, his hand flew around her neck, causing the key to clatter to the floor.  
"Tell me, my little wolf. Who is it that you weep for: Sir Jaime Lannister or Loras Tyrell?" He whispered into her ear. She sighed, giving in for a moment.  
"I am surprised that it is these men that you admire so much. Your friend seemed very fond of me." He mocked her. Her anger inflamed, throwing him off and picking up her key.  
"Then why don't you return to her!" She shouted at him, opening her door and storming inside. Pacing around the room, a sobbing mess. Petyr had underestimated how much his little charade had affected her. He had forgotten how fragile she was, how wounded she had been after her time with the Bolton boy. He thought back to when she would cry like this because of Joffrey and shuddered, despising the comparison. She had left the door open, so he entered, tentatively approaching Sansa.  
"Because, my love, she is not the one I want." He stopped her pacing and placed both hands on the sides of her face.  
"Then why were you playing with her hair and jesting with her?" She asked in a watery question.  
"Because I wanted to see your reaction, my love. If you were angry, then I would know you cared for me. I think you have proven this ten fold." He smiled at her, feeling a guilt he had never felt before. He pulled her head to his shoulder and cooed to her.  
"Perhaps this is why you sat with your brother these past evenings? Why you mentioned those men in your conversation? Let me assure you that my blood ran hotter than any man's before at the sight and sound of you being pleased by another." She chuckled against his shoulder.  
"You are just as smart as I, not wanting to entrust your heart to someone who is unworthy. I am proud of you, for testing me in such a way. It is so like me that I would have thought it one of my moves." He smiled down at her.  
"I am sorry if I was too cruel in my move." He apologised.  
"I should have expected it. You _are_ Petyr Baelish." She responded and he chuckled, holding her tighter.  
"In penance for my cruel actions, may you permit me to stay with you and comfort you?" He asked. The offer sounded foreign coming from Lord Baelish's mouth. But it was readily accepted by Sansa, feeling that if Lord Baelish could hold her in the most innocent way imaginable, then surely she could trust him? Even just a sliver more than she did presently.  
"If you go back to your chambers and change, my Lord, I shall permit you to spend the night. Holding me and nothing more." Petyr could not believe what he was hearing. But soon enough he left, changing as quickly as he thought was humanly possible. Then, he returned, with Sansa's quilt and knocked upon the door.

Sansa had changed into her nightgown, had brushed her hair and attempted to treat the swelling on her face. She did not say much when he entered the room, only tucked herself under the covers and waited for him to do the same. She felt his beard scratch against her neck as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She was so close, smelt so sweet that he could hardly believe that she was real. She was licking her wounds in silence, he understood that.  
"I shall show you, little wolf, that my love is true." He whispered to her, then squeezed her tight, falling into slumber, hoping that their physical trust could begin to forge their emotional trust also.


	5. A Mild Inconvenience

When Sansa awoke, the weight that she had felt beside her in the bed was gone. Petyr had left at dawn, returning to his own bedchamber. He could not risk his being seen by anyone. So he crept away. If he were to have had his way, he would have slumbered beside Sansa until she woke. Her body was warm and she smelt so sweet that his mouth watered. But, he knew that if they had any chance of being together, he would have to follow the rules. Sansa understood why he had left, she was grateful that he had her reputation in mind. But she felt cold without his heat and alone now out of the tight embrace of his arms.

Petyr dressed for the day, a smile plastered onto his face after the best night's sleep he had had in a long while. However, a knock at the door disrupted this joyful peace. Petyr took the letter from the boy and opened it in haste.

 _Lord Baelish,_

 _It has been so long since we have spoken and longer still since we have seen one another. Despite our differences I am sorrowed by this fact. I sail with Daenerys Targaryen for Westeros. What I ask of you is the allegiance of the Vale, of House Arryn's forces and of course of your allegiance, House Baelish. I can not relay any details in this letter, as I am sure you can understand, but meet me when the moon is in its second wax, at our old meeting spot and I promise you it shall be worth your while._

 _Varys._

Baelish stared at the letter. He had heard that the young Targaryen was strong, that she had taken over slaver's bay. But now the game had changed entirely. For once, Petyr was being involved, was one of the first to be asked for allegiance, he had power, he had authority, and he loved it. He felt intoxicated by the thought that he might rise higher than Lord Protector of the Vale. He knew that he had to travel to the outskirts of King's Landing to meet Varys, to learn about this dragon girl who could reclaim the land and crown from tyranny. His army could stay in the North whilst he visited and he could be back to either pledge them to Jon Snow or to take them to King's Landing in a swift amount of time. He thought of Sansa, he hated leaving her. But he knew that she would support him and that the outcome of this journey would be one she approved of.

Sansa sat alone in the hall, eating after everybody had left. She pondered on what would happen. Cersei had been Queen for a month and nothing too awful had been reported. But there was nobody left to kill, she had eliminated her enemies in one clean sweep, so surely it was clean sailing from here? But she had no true right to the throne. No royal blood ran through her veins. It was widely known that her children were not that of Robert Baratheon, which meant that a true recipient had not sat on the throne for a long while. With Robert Baratheon taking it by brute force and Lannisters sitting on it ever since, the only person who could boast any kind of legitimate claim would be Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons in the east. But could she really take back the throne for House Targaryen? Sansa was not sure.

Sansa's musings were interrupted by Lord Baelish entering the hall. A grave expression fell upon his face as he approached her and she knew any news that he had to relay was not that of a pleasant nature.  
"I must go away." He began, his voice gruff and filled with sorrow.  
"Why?" Sansa replied in a light questioning tone.  
"Desperate matters call for my attention." He replied in a tone that allowed for no dispute.  
"Of course. May I ask where you journey to?" Sansa attempted to sound excited, but her tone was weighed down by her complete despair at the thought of him leaving her.  
"I ride south." Was the only information he would give her. He could not risk her being hurt for knowing too much.  
"And shall you return?" Her voice broke, destroying any mask of indifference that she had dawned. He approached her now, his strides fast and long. He reached her in mere seconds and knelt before her. He held her chin between his finger and thumb and turned her face to meet his.  
"Do you truly think I would ever leave you?" He asked, placing his forehead against hers.  
"I do not know what to think where you are concerned, my Lord." She replied, feeling her resolve falter.  
"I shall return, I promise you this. I will prove myself to you, little wolf." He brought her lips to his and left her with a soft, loving kiss that left Sansa breathless. Before she could say anything, before she could bid him farewell, he strode from the hall, feeling less whole than he had entered, leaving part of himself with her. For the first time in a long while, his body quaked and he felt the moisture of tears reach the corners of his eyes.

Sansa did not send him off. She was not waiting for him by the gates of Winterfell when he entered his carriage and bid farewell to Jon Snow. He had anticipated this. She was hurt, he had done exactly what he said he would not do and left. He was sure, upon contemplation, that she would understand. But, in this time, thinking of her hurting once again, at his hand, was more painful than anything he had felt before.

She heard him leave, heard the army send him off, Jon along with them. She longed to peek from her window, to watch him leave. But no, she could not. She was more than just the lovesick admirer of Petyr Baelish and she would work and slave over the things that she loved, to prove to herself that she could be truly happy, as she had not been in the longest of times.  
"Please, Gretchen, fetch me some cream silk." She ordered her maid.  
"Yes, my Lady." Gretchen hesitated for a moment.  
"I hope I am not speaking out of line my Lady, but I am sure that he shall return. He cares for you, even I can see that." Sansa smiled at the young girl, still older than herself.  
"Thank you. I hope that you are right." She thanked Gretchen, before sitting back into her large chair and working on a plan for a fine dress.

Petyr thought about her the entire journey to King's Landing. They would stop at taverns and every girl the men leered at would fall terribly short. Sansa's wide eyes and fire-licked hair played in his mind. He imagined her smiling and laughing and loving again. He smiled at the thought, hoping that she could forgive him for this inconvenience.

Varys waited for Baelish in their usual meeting place: a tavern nobody knew of, just outside of King's Landing. Varys had paid off the owner, to shut the establishment to give them the utmost privacy. Petyr walked in and he looked well, surprisingly. He did not have the bags under his eyes that one would associate with a man who had been travelling and he had a healthy glow about him. Varys met his old friend with smiles and open arms. They embraced and sat opposite one another, with a decanter of wine with two goblets.  
"How have you been, my friend?" Varys asked Petyr.  
"Of course, my life has been difficult since the untimely passing of my wife." He looked up to Varys with a knowing look and they both smirked.  
"But truly, I have made some mistakes, but things appear to be shaping out quite nicely. How about you?" He asked, wondering what Varys had been using his time for.  
"I have been supporting Daenerys Targaryen's claim to the throne." He replied simply.  
"Yes, tell me more about that." Petyr cut him off.  
"She has three dragons, all mighty and strong. Cersei has not a chance." He replied in whispers.  
"So why do you need me?" He asked, wondering why the Targaryen girl would need his soldiers if she had dragons.  
"We do not so much need your armies as much as your allegiance. She is a Targaryen and to many, her house has been dead for many years. It is not the taking of the throne that she needs help with, so your soldiers are safe. She is in need of strong friends to help her secure the throne once she acquires it." Varys leant in even closer.  
"She will also need a Master of Coin and I daresay that you are the greatest candidate, especially if I put in a good word." Varys hinted, raising his eyebrows.  
"That is a fine offer and I have no qualms with standing behind the Targaryen girl. But I have interests elsewhere that mean living in King's Landing would not be my finest option." Petyr replied, conflicted. Wanting to consider the prospective job, but also thinking of Sansa.  
"What other interests? Your whorehouses are all in King's Landing, what could possibly-" Varys then understood, an expression of realisation washed over his face.  
"Perhaps your interests are in the North, my Lord?" He asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Petyr remained silent.  
"Bring her with you. Lady Stark always enjoyed King's Landing from what I recall and I am sure my Queen would enjoy her immensely." Varys suggested. Petyr sat in deep thought, wondering if he could truly ask Sansa to come with him. Varys placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.  
"Well, I have your word that you shall pledge allegiance, it would be good for your own head to stick by it. I shall send word when you are required. Until then, enjoy the pleasures the North has to offer." Varys stood and left Petyr alone in the empty tavern, feeling very unsure and alone.


	6. Reunited

To his surprise, the battle had begun and was on its way to being won by the time that Petyr arrived back in Winterfell. He felt like he had been away for an eternity, although in truth it had only been a handful of moons. He longed to lay his eyes upon her, to see her amongst the snow. He guessed that she would be angry and avoid him, forcing him to beg and grovel for her attention. However, when he arrived, there she was, stood with Jon Snow, in a deep red gown. Her skin blushed against the tone of the dress and her lips parted, the colour of two ripe strawberries. He felt the air leave his lungs. He was unsure how to think, his mind stopped all together. The soft smile that touched her lips was enough for Petyr to bite down upon his own and let his eyes fall shut.

Sansa had allowed herself to indulge. She had thrown herself into her occupation fully. She had made three fine dresses. One of red, one of gold and one of brilliant white. She had requested cream, but Gretchen had found her a far superior fabric that surpassed Sansa's plans. Whilst working, she realised that there was not a dichotomy between a respected woman and a woman besotted with a man. People would respect her no more if she closed herself off and became prudish. She would be far more liked if it were seen that she were a real woman, with real emotions, capable of being courted. News had come of the Targaryen girl and Sansa did not fear so much anymore. She knew, if what she had heard of this woman was correct, that Jon could continue being Warden of the North, as he wished. He did not care for the name "King" he had told her and had begun asking people to call him Warden instead. Sansa was grateful for this as she knew that it would secure the future of her house.

She decided to stand and wait for Petyr, as she had not when he left. Gretchen dressed her in her blood red gown.  
"You look radiant, my Lady. The craftsmanship is beyond belief." Gretchen complimented Sansa. She had to admit that the dess far surpassed anything that she had made before. The cold turned her lips crimson and she looked quite the Lady, she believed. She joined Jon in position.  
"The poor man. You'll shock him half to death." He jested, looking down upon her.  
"Do you think I should change?" She asked, wondering if the neckline was indecent.  
"No, you look marvelous. Too marvelous for poor Baelish, I dare say." Jon complimented her and chuckled.

They stood and watched as the carriage rode in. There were a few moments of anticipation before Baelish emerged. He was dressed all in black. His hair was freshly trimmed and he lacked all of the sickly trimmings that Sansa had expected. She watched as he attempted to keep his eyes off of her. He greeted Jon, stated how he had missed Winterfell during his time away. He then came to Sansa. His gaze burned with an emotion that she could not fully comprehend.  
"Welcome, Lord Baelish. We are all so glad that you have returned." She curtsied to him, before he caught her hand.  
"I can not tell you how glad I am to have returned." He placed his lips to her fingers before striding off, to his chambers.

Petyr breathed heavily, after having to show such self restraint. He wondered where she had acquired such a gown, but shook his head not wanting to ponder on such things. He expected a pile of letters to be waiting for him at his desk. However, it was only one that he was met with.

 _Lord Baelish,_

 _I am writing to alert you to the swift nature of the battle between the Lannisters and Targaryens. The fighting should be over by the full moon and my Lady asks that you and whoever might accompany you to be in King's Landing by the end of this cycle. I hope that this is suitable for you, I expect to hear a reply if it is not so. Things are changing, my Lord and you should be glad that you are on the winning side._

 _Yours,_

 _Varys._

Petyr rubbed the back of his neck in anxiety. He wondered what he should do. This was the biggest opportunity in his life. But could he take Sansa away from her home? He was unsure. But soon enough, the idea of spending the winter in the bitter cold of Winterfell became less alluring. He knew he would have to talk to Jon Snow about his situation sooner or later and Petyr preferred the idea of the former rather than the latter.

Jon sat in his quarters, with his letter from King's Landing in his hand. He was unsure about this new Queen. But, he wanted to keep his mind open and he thought about who he would send to represent the North and Winterfell. His musings were interrupted by Lord Baelish knocking at his door.  
"I have a dilema, your highness." Petyr began.  
"Please, call me Jon." He stated, wanting to be on more personal terms with Lord Baelish.  
"As you may have heard, there is to be new rule in King's Landing." Petyr stated slowly and tentatively.  
"Yes, I have been made aware of the fact." Jon gave little away of his feelings.  
"I have been informed that my presence is required to keep control of the funds under the new Queen." Petyr explained his situation.  
"I see. And have you grown to love the North so much that you do not wish to leave it?" Jon asked, cocking an eyebrow.  
"It is not the North so much as a certain inhabitant of Winterfell." Jon chuckled at the diplomatic nature of the man's speech.  
"Sansa may journey with you if she wishes. I need somebody to represent the North and as the last remaining Stark, I believe that it would be appropriate for her to attend." Petyr felt a smile creep to the corners of his mouth.  
"But I will not force her. You must understand this, Lord Baelish. You may take away your forces and deny me your allegiance, but I will not force her." He stated in a solid voice that allowed no room for discussion.  
"I would not expect you to, and I would be upset if you did, I daresay. All I ask is for permission to enquire, to see if she would come with me." Petyr bowed his head, knowing that he would have to be reverent to Jon Snow to get what he wanted.  
"Why of course, Lord Baelish. She is a free woman, she should be able to make her own choices. By all means ask her." Jon allowed Petyr what he wanted.  
"I shall not be taking the army of the Vale out of the North. They are yours to man. Please, see it as a gift, a token of forces in a time of desperate need." Petyr stated as he stood.  
"Thank you, Lord Baelish. You are a good man." Jon replied, shaking Petyr's hand. Petyr laughing internally at the thought that he was a good man, based on his past. But thanked Jon for the compliment nonetheless.

Sansa spoke with Brienne in her entertaining quarters. After Petyr had left, Brienne had arrived, making Sansa's time alone rather less dull.  
"I am so sorry that you had to bid farewell to Sir Jaime." Sansa comforted Brienne, who put on a brave face, but was hurting inside.  
"I am not sure such sentiments are needed. He loved the woman who killed so many innocent people. I am unsure if he is dead or alive, but he is not the man I thought he was." Brienne looked to her hands reverently. Sansa placed her hands upon Brienne's.  
"We have all loved those we do not truly know. I thought myself in love with Geoffrey, but that was quite a fantasy." Sansa reassured Brienne, who broke into laughter.  
"I still cannot believe a girl as smart as you could ever be engaged to such a brat." Sansa laughed along with her, until they heard a knock at the door. Brienne stood to answer it.  
"Lady Brienne, I did not know you had arrived." Petyr greeted the Lady, in shock.  
"Yes, Lord Baelish. I have been here some days now." She replied in a flat voice.  
"Brienne, it is quite alright. You may let Lord Baelish in. I shall see you at dinner." Sansa insisted and despite Brienne's disapproving looks, she left them alone.

Petyr sat opposite Sansa and drank her in as if she were a tall goblet of the finest Dornish wine he had ever tasted.  
"You returned." She stated simply, an impressed tone flourishing her voice.  
"As I promised, my Lady." Petyr replied.  
"Was your trip productive?" She asked, wanting to snoop into his business.  
"That is what I am here to speak with you about." He began carefully.  
"Oh, please continue, Lord Baelish." Sansa sat back comfortably and waited.  
"You may have heard that there is to be new rule in King's Landing." He began, ensuring that he worded his sentiments properly.  
"Yes, the Targaryen girl." Sansa followed.  
"I have been asked by one of her closest advisers to travel to the Capital and take up the office of Master of Coin." He stated suggestively. He saw her face sink, but quickly recovered.  
"However, the reason that I am here, is because I would like to ask you if you would journey with me?" He asked outright, not wanting to fluff up his proposal. Sansa sat in awe for a moment.  
"Your brother is in need of a representative and I can assure you that no one could do more justice to the North or to Winterfell as you." He added. Sansa furrowed her brow and pondered for a moment. She loved the weather and the company in King's Landing, and she certainly did not want to be parted from Petyr when things were going so well. She sighed and shook her head lightly, instilling the greatest fear within Petyr.  
"I love Winterfell, it is my home. But it does not feel like home anymore." She mused aloud.  
"I shall have to speak to my brother about it. And also Brienne. She is my closest friend." Petyr nodded.  
"Of course, my Lady. I would expect no less. And where Lady Brienne is concerned, I am sure our new Queen shall be able to put her to fine use." He bowed, before leaving her to her thoughts. He wished that he could stay. But truly, he knew that a moment in solitude and the in the company of her thoughts was what was best for Sansa in this moment. Because, much like her brother, Petyr would not take her to the Capital by force.


	7. Decision Making

Sansa sat with Jon, as she did most days. However, their topic of conversation was not as light as usual.  
"Jon, I don't know what to do." Sansa began, sighing in desperation.  
"Sansa. You don't have to please me, or Lord Baelish, or this new Queen by going to King's Landing. You only have to do what will make you happy. You have lived in such sorrow, I can not and will not see you like that again." He advised her.  
"But, I fear that I want to go. I fear that it would make me happy." Sansa played with the fabric of her dress, embarrassed by the topic of conversation.  
"Why?" Was Jon's only question.  
"I fear that Lord Baelish makes me happy." Sansa stopped herself, not wanting to continue. Jon placed his hand over Sansa's and rubbed her skin softly.  
"That is not something to fear. He brings out the best in you, the smart, talented side of you that sews dresses and thinks of battle tactics. I will not force you, but I think it would be positive for you to go. Do not fear for your claim in the North. Even if you marry Lord Baelish, Stark blood will run through your child's veins and it shall be they who will inherit Winterfell, as the rightful heir." Sansa smiled up at Jon, gripping his hand a little tighter.

Petyr sat with Sansa at dinner, but they did not speak of King's Landing. Instead, for dessert, the wench brought Sansa a plate of beautifully frosted lemon cakes. Sansa clasped a hand over her mouth in shock, hoping that no one had noticed the gesture.  
"They are a gift. I found them on my journey." Petyr whispered in Sansa's ear. She beamed up at him and excitedly took his hand in her's under the table. She felt Petyr become tense and then immediately relax. His fingers intermingled with hers and he gripped her hand loosely, feeling her skin brush against his. Sansa revelled in the bittersweet taste of the cakes. She had not tasted a lemon cake since her time in the Capital. The sweet delight reminded her of the sun and the gardens and the diverse society.  
"When do you leave for the Capital, Lord Baelish?" Sansa asked softly, trying to scope out the situation.  
"In two days, my Lady." Sansa nodded and continued with her cakes. Petyr delighted in seeing her so happy with her gift. Their hands remained interlinked for the entirety of the meal, until they bid each other goodnight. The arrival of Brienne put their physical relationship on hold, which Sansa was grateful for. But still, as she laid in her bed, she missed his touch, his cool, yet tender hands holding her.

Sansa dreamt of fine wine and warmth, of old friends and the opportunity to make new acquaintances. She would go to King's Landing as the representative of the North. But she was sure that once she had a taste for the southern life, that she would not want to return. The only person left to consult was Brienne. Sansa found her, chatting with a certain ginger wildling, whose name she could not recall. Sansa remained quiet for a moment, in order to listen in.  
"Jon has asked me to go and I can not deny him." She heard the man sulk in his gruff voice.  
"I understand." Brienne replied curtly.  
"I will be back." The man replied softly, after the lengthy silence.  
"Yes. Yes I know." Brienne replied. There was a moment of silence and Sansa peaked her head around the corner and saw the man lean down to kiss Brienne on the cheek. She only then realised how massive the man was, to be able to lean down to kiss Brienne. Not wanting to barge in, Sansa returned to her quarters and asked for Brienne to be brought to her.

Brienne sat in Sansa's quarters and waited to hear the important news for which she had been summoned.  
"I am journeying to the south, with Lord Baelish, to meet the new Queen." Sansa began.  
"Would it be of any interest to you to join me?" She asked lightly.  
"Yes." Brienne replied too quickly. Sansa raised an eyebrow in curiosity.  
"Only there will be many new opportunities where the Queen's guard is concerned and I am very interested in the role." Sansa smiled, glad that Brienne was so enthusiastic about the journey, it made everything so much easier.

Sansa sat beside Petyr at dinner the following evening. She had informed Jon of her journey that afternoon.  
"Oh good, I am sending Tormund with you to represent the wildling force." Jon informed her. Sansa now realised why Brienne had been so quick to agree to a trip to King's Landing.  
"Very well, brother. I suppose this shall be our last afternoon meeting for a while." She noted with remorse in her voice.  
"Yes, I suppose so." He replied, equally sorrowful.  
"But listen, have a nice time. Let Baelish by you all of the finest silks and lemon cakes that he can afford. Let him indulge you. I am sure it will bring him the greatest of pleasures." Jon winked at her, before pulling her into a tight embrace. Sansa knew that he would be alright. He had died once and even death couldn't hold him down.

Sansa sat beside Petyr at dinner and, once again, took his hand.  
"I shall travel with you, Lord Baelish, to the Capital." She informed him and he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his head. All of the lonely nights and empty days he feared he would have to endure were all wiped away with one breath from Sansa Stark. He chuckled and smiled down at her.  
"I am so glad. I am sure the Capital has been dim without your light." Petyr complimented her and she blushed a deep shade of scarlet which made Petyr feel rather pleased with himself.

Sansa watched as Gretchen giddily packed her gowns away.  
"Have you ever been to the Capital before, Gretchen?" Sansa asked, wondering where she had been before becoming her handmaid.  
"No, my Lady. I have lived my entire life on the outskirts of Winterfell." Sansa smiled knowingly.  
"Then it shall be very different for you, life in King's Landing." Sansa replied and Gretchen showed her gratitude for the opportunity.

Petyr packed his own things, not wanting a boy rustling around in his things. He wondered how life would change. He had lived for a long time in King's Landing. But it had been so different then. He had wanted the throne and nothing more. His days were filled with plotting and scheming. Only now did he realise that perhaps the iron throne was not all that it was cut out to be. He was sure, were he to obtain it, that Sansa would be in constant danger and he would have the responsibility of the seven kingdoms. He loved power, but he was not sure if heloved it enough to sacrifice everything. Life at the top was powerful, no doubt, but also lonely, and Petyr thought to himself that he might be happier as the Master of Coin, with a family, stability and enough power to sedate his lust.

Jon watched Sansa as she walked through Winterfell one last time before leaving. Part of him wanted to join her, but he knew that this was a time for her to be with herself, to think to herself and contemplate what her life was going to look like. Jon had never been to King's Landing, but he knew, for Sansa, that it was a place of great pain and violence, that she had been forced to experience terrible things. But then, she had also been forced to experience terrible things at Winterfell. He sighed, wondering when her life would finally settle itself enough to allow her to be happy and hoped that it would be sooner rather than later.

Sansa stood at the gates of Winterfell and looked back at Jon. He was stood, on his own, very unlike the masses of men that had been sent to send off Lord Baelish the last time he left. But it was appropriate that it be only him. In the end, he was the only one left at Winterfell who truly loved her. She embraced him and whimpered lightly into his ear.  
"Now, don't be upset. I shall see you again soon. Please, try to enjoy yourself." He whispered into her ear and she nodded. He smiled at her, before handing her over to Baelish.  
"Please take care of her, as well as yourself, Lord Baelish." Jon took his hand.  
"I will strive for nothing else, Warden." He smiled and Jon thumped him on the back.  
"Tormund! Remember what we discussed." Jon called to him and he nodded, calling back that he would never forget. Brienne and he rode off on horseback, as she had requested. Sansa then climbed into the carriage and looked back at Winterfell, bidding it farewell. Petyr soon slid in, sitting opposite her.  
"I mean it, Sansa. No one will hurt you, I will take care of you." He promised her, the truth in his eyes penetrating her very being. She had never believed Lord Baelish before, but something seemed different this time.  
"I believe you, Lord Baelish." She reassured him, looking back Winterfell, disappearing into the distance. She turned her eyes away from her reseeding home and looked to Petyr. And for the first time in a long while. the future looked bright.


	8. The Arrival

The journey was long and Sansa was exhausted by the time that they reached King's Landing. She recognised the polluted smell that always clung to the air in King's Landing. But she did not recoil in disgust, she rather sighed and remembered the first time she had ever visited King's Landing with Joffrey and the Baratheons.

Petyr could not wait to be back. The white wintery landscapes of the North had many attributes to recommend itself. But in Petyr's mind, there was nowhere quite like King's Landing for a man of the world to reside. He had enjoyed the journey immensely, being in such close proximity to Sansa. She had slumbered and he had watched her peaceful resting face, smiling to himself, thinking of the time that they would spend together in the Capital. He wondered if her coming was a symbol of Sansa's willingness to become his wife. He did not know, but he was aware that he could not rush the process of marriage, as he wanted her to agree of her own accord.

They bid each other farewell as they parted ways to be escorted to their bedchambers. Sansa took in the sunlight, the gold hue that appeared to be cast over the city. She smiled as she remembered the fond times she had spent there, then shuddered at the overwhelming number of terrible events that had occurred. This time would be different. She had Gretchen and Brienne, people that she trusted. She would not be lured into niavity again, she was sure of it.

Petyr was glad to be given his old room. It still overlooked the rather seedier side of the Capital, the side where he made his money in his many brothels. The room was exactly as he had left it, with a feather still rested in a pot of ink and his old grey silk sheets laid upon the bed.  
"I asked for your old room to be left. I hope you agree with my choice." Varys called from the door.  
"Yes, this is where I feel most at home. Thank you, my Lord." Petyr bowed to Varys.  
"Rest for the day. I understand that you and your companion have been travelling a long while and must be tired." Varys smiled to Petyr in a kind, yet confusing way.  
"I shall wash, then walk in the city for a while, I think." He shared his plans with Varys.  
"That is a fine plan. A clever man always checks on his businesses." Varys concluded, before leaving Petyr to his own devices.

Sansa stood in her room, which sat on the opposite side of the castle to her old dwelling. She overlooked the sea, rather than the temple, or what was left of it and she was glad for the change, being able to begin afresh with this new visit.  
"I changed your room, I hope you do not mind." Varys sounded from the doorway. Sansa turned to find the kind familiar face of Varys staring at her. She smiled and approached him, feeling herself in a fine mood.  
"Yes, thank you so much. This room is wonderful." She beamed at him. He carefully took her hand in his.  
"I have heard the grave news of yourself and your brother, Lady Stark. I give you my condolences and assure you that whilst you are in King's Landing, no harm will fall upon you. We are a peaceful state now, one without the tyranny that has plagued us for so long." He reassured her.  
"Thank you, Lord Varys. Your friendship is pricelessly valuable to me." She smiled up to him, knowing that Varys was a clever and strong man, a good choice to have on your side and a fatal flaw to have against you.  
"Please, rest as you will. The coronation is tomorrow, so please spend the day preparing yourself in a manner that you see fit." Then, without a word, he left. Gretchen arrived soon after Varys left.  
"Please draw me a bath, Gretchen. I am in need of a bathe after all of the travelling." Sansa ordered.

Petyr breathed heavily as he walked through the streets of King's Landing. There was a strange air about the town. People were joyful due to the liberation of the state. But also, their lives had been so ravaged by the explosion that many of the houses in the neighbourhoods were being reconstructed, leaving people homeless. However, despite people's strife, Petyr had never been richer. Times of tragedy brought men into the soft comforting arms of his whores and this resulted in their cold hard money entering Petyr's deep pockets. He knew that Sansa did not care about money, perhaps that was because she had never been without it. But nonetheless, he knew that a bolstered account was favourable when marriage was in question. The brothels appeared to be in good order. One of his longest employees had been keeping them running in the time that Petyr had been away and she was becoming quite the business woman. Petyr left his establishment feeling rather positive.

Sansa had bathed and dressed, picking out a gold gown that she had sewn in the last few weeks. Her hair had been braided, tendrils left around her face, drying in the sun. Sansa had sent Gretchen off into the Capital to enjoy herself, to which she had been very grateful. Sansa herself took to touring around the gardens of the castle, to reacquaint herself with the surroundings. She peered down at her dress as she walked in the sunlight and it gleamed and glittered more than it ever would have in the North, due to the lack of sun. Sansa smiled to herself, pleased with her skill.

Daenerys stood, looking down upon the gardens. She had never seen a garden quite as beautiful as the one in the Red Keep. She looked down upon the gardens, which until now had been empty. However, there walked a girl, with hair like fire and a gown of gold.  
"Who is that?" She asked Tyrion, who stood with her, on a step to raise him to a viewing height.  
"That is Sansa Stark." He replied with reverence in his voice.  
"She is very beautiful, you were a lucky man." Daenerys stated, aware that the couple had once been joined in marriage.  
"I was forced to marry a child who was mentally tortured by my nephew. I do not think that made me a lucky man." He replied, remembering her expression when he met her at the altar.  
"Please, go and speak with her. I would like to know more about this Sansa Stark and if there is any bad blood, I wish it to be put to rest this day." She stated, wanting to give the girl a companion. The Red Keep had been so empty since she had occupied it, only wanting her friends to enter and not knowing who her friends were. This girl, the one with firey hair was the first to arrive and make herself known. Daenerys admired her bold nature in walking on her own around the castle grounds and wished to know more about the young Lady.

Sansa smelt the beautiful buds of the roses that were planted in patches, almost coming to bloom, when she caught out of the corner of her eye the unmistakable walk of Tyrion Lannister. She turned and curtsied, wondering to herself where they stood in their relationship. She had been whisked away from him, ending their marriage, but they had never been uncivil.  
"My Lord, it has been too long since we have met." Sansa began. Tyrion was unsure how to respond. He had heard of the atrocities that the Bolton family had inflicted on her. But here she stood, smiling down at him, more ravishing than ever.  
"My Lady, it has never before been so refreshing to see you, in all of your splendor." He bowed his head, wishing to remain polite.  
"Would you care to walk with me, Lord Tyrion?" Sansa asked, feeling a friendly energy radiating from him.  
"I would care for nothing more, my Lady." He agreed.

Tyrion was grateful for Sansa's slowed pace, allowing him to keep up.  
"So, you are Hand of the Queen, I see. It always was a position that fitted you well." She complimented him, meaning the sentiment fully.  
"Thank you, my Lady. I have been lucky enough to have been offered this opportunity." He replied formulaically.  
"I am sorry for your loss. You must be the Lord of Casterly Rock now." Sansa stated, meaning the statement as a question. Jamie had died during the battle and Cersei had been publically executed, leaving only Tyrion in the direct bloodline.  
"Yes, you are correct. A fact that my Father would have hated. But, I am afriad that my siblings were on the wrong side of the battle. Jamie was given an opportunity to transfer. But, he loved my sister. Perhaps more than was appropriate." He felt himself trailing off. But, Sansa's wide eyed fascination spurred him on.  
"I am only the Lord of Casterly Rock by name now. I gave the right to one of my cousins. He had been trained by my uncle, before he passed and I can not be there, nor would I like to be. How about you? How is the North?" He asked her, wanting to move the topic from himself.  
"I am technically Wardeness of the North, as the only Stark. But I have given my half brother, Jon, the position. He is a leader, a fine man who shall guide the armies against the dangers beyond the Wall." Sansa repeated what she had heard other men say. Tyrion saw right through her and looked at her with a knowing expression.  
"Also, I do not feel my place in this world is as Wardeness of the North. I feel my place is somewhere else." She whispered, ashamed of her sentiments. He smiled proudly up at her, knowing that she was being truthful with him.  
"I think so too." He whispered in reply. She had become fine company, not simply the product of a finely tuned upbringing. She had a personality of her own, and he was very glad of the change.

Lord Baelish sat with Varys and watched as Sansa walked in the gardens with Tyrion Lannister. He smiled as he watched her chuckle and smile in the company of the Hand of the Queen. He was in awe of her dress, that appeared to be made of sunlight itself and was surprised at the lack of jealousy he felt for Lord Tyrion. He watched as Sansa caught a glimpse of him and smiled, the truest smile he had seen from her in a long while. She was being stimulated intellectually, he was sure and her social interaction was no doubt lifting her mood. He did not move, he simply sat and watched as they made their way about the gardens.

Tyrion noticed the warm look that Sansa had sent Lord Baelish's way.  
"Was it with Lord Baelish that you travelled?" He asked, wondering if perhaps she had grown fond of Little Finger.  
"Yes, my Lord. It was he who offered me the opportunity to return to the Capital." She informed him and he nodded.  
"And are you fond of the Protector of the Vale?" He jested, which caused her to chuckle.  
"And what if I am? What would be of it?" She asked him in a playful manner.  
"Nothing, nothing at all. It is dangerous to fall into the game with Baelish, though." He warned her.  
"Perhaps I have finer skills in this game than he, my Lord. I am sure I shall see you at supper." She curtsied to him, before strolling back to the castle, in search of Brienne. Leaving Tyrion in a state of shock, chuckling to himself, placing a hand over his mouth in disbelief.

Varys also watched as Sansa left Tyrion in a state of pure shock.  
"Excuse me, Lord Varys. I have matters to attend to." Baelish bid farewell to Varys, heading off to his appointment with the tailor. Varys stood and caught up with Tyrion, in order to interrogate him.  
"So, how is she?" He asked, as they walked together, towards the Throne Room.  
"I cannot explain. She is different, completely different." Varys raised his eyebrows in interest.  
"However we may feel about him, Little Finger has turned her into a fine woman." Varys stated.  
"Yes, you can say that in more aspects than one." Tyrion mumbled, causing Varys to gasp in fake shock, making them both chuckle.

Supper soon rolled around and Sansa was shocked at the small nature of the event. The Queen had retired and and the only guests who remained were her, Lord Baelish, Lord Varys, Lord Tyrion, Brienne and two of Daenerys' small council members, one a man with a shaved head and serious face and a woman, with large dark hair and wide beautiful eyes.  
"Are the guests for the coronation arriving tomorrow?" Sansa asked Lord Varys.  
"Yes, my dear. We didn't want them eating our food and drinking our wine for longer than absolutely necessary." He chuckled and she joined in.  
"We did have the Greyjoys, but they have returned to the Iron Islands." The young woman informed Sansa in her melodic voice.  
"I see, I do hope Theon is in good health." She stated. However the woman could give no reply. Sansa furrowed her brow as the woman gave her an apologetic look. Brienne attempted not to look at the man with the shaved head, who could not appear to take his eyes off of her. Grey Worm had never seen a female knight, let alone one who looked as if she could defeat the best of men. He was told to look away in his native tongue by Missandei and felt very rude, bowing his head in shame.

Petyr had only spoken quietly with Varys, when not remaining silent during the meal. After, he offered to escort Sansa back to her room, to which she agreed. Whilst walking, Sansa noted how empty the castle seemed without its occupants. Petyr could not put into words how he felt, he was blown away by Sansa's transformation. She was confident and kind, rather than being distant with her acquaintances. So, instead of boring her with poetic drivel, he took her by the hand and pulled her close.  
"I am so proud of you." Was all he said, there lips almost touching, his short beard grazing against her soft skin.  
"I do not under-" He cut her sentiments short by pulling her into a passionate kiss. His hands tangled into her hair and her fingers twisted around his doublet. They panted as their lips danced against each other. He couldn't seem to have enough of her, so he moved his hand from her hair to the small of her back, pulling her closer. She moved her hands to curl around his neck. She might have laughed and conversed with other men, stimulating her mind. But truly, he was the only man that mattered to her in that moment, the only man she could think of late at night and it pained her to send him away, but alas, she knew it was the right thing to do. She watched him leave and prepared for bed, slumbering upon the eve of a new world.


	9. Women of Power

Dawn crept up on the new kingdom as coronation day came. Sansa was awoken by the light of sunrise, glinting through her thin gossamer curtains. Gretchen saw the her morning routine and helped her as she awoke.  
"It is an important day." Sansa stated, yawning against the palm of her hand.  
"Yes, my Lady. Indeed it is." Gretchen agreed. Perhaps it didn't mean as much to her, who sat on the iron throne. But to Sansa, it was imperative that she be on the right side of the Queen to ensure the longevity of her household.  
"I must look perfect." Sansa spoke to herself for the most part. But Gretchen understood.  
"Yes, my Lady. A fine impression must be made." Sansa smiled down at her, excited about the day.

Varys knocked upon Sansa's door, his hands tingling with anticipation. Sansa answered and Varys felt himself gasp slightly. She wore a snow white gown, which was embroidered to perfection and left her ivory shoulders bare. A single curl fell down her neck, leaving the rest in intricate braids. She looked unlike anyone he had seen before, and that was quite a feet.  
"Good morning, Lord Varys." Sansa began to worry about her outfit of choice. Gretchen had ensured her that her creation was spellbinding, but Lord Varys' reaction was proving her fact rather false.  
"Good morning, my Lady. You look-" He couldn't quite finish his sentence without sounding inappropriate, even as a eunuch, he could appreciate her striking beauty.  
"Should I change?" She asked in horror.  
"No no no." He answered too quickly. "You look ravishing my dear. I dread to think what the men of court will think of you." His mind lied upon one man in particular, who he thought might have a heart attack upon seeing her.  
"Oh, thank you, Lord Varys. I wanted to ensure that I looked my best for the Queen." Sansa smiled prettily, looking to the floor, a little embarrassed in his company.  
"You shall be announced to the Queen before the ceremony. If you come with me." Sansa could barely breath. It had been so long since she had stepped foot in the throne room. However, she mustered the courage to walk with Varys. However, she had to stop.  
"What ever is the matter?" He asked, worry enveloping his voice. Sansa did not, no could not admit to Lord Varys that she was frightened. She lifted her head and smiled.  
"My foot slipped." She covered herself, to which he chuckled and continued on.

Tormund stood with Brienne in his quarters. She insisted that she shouldn't be there, but he had no one to assist him and she knew these fine clothes better than anyone he had met.  
"I look ridiculous!" He exclaimed, looking at his reflection, covered in leather rather than the usual fur. His beard had been trimmed and his hair tamed. With his new look, Brienne thought him quite the Westerosi man.  
"I think you look handsome." She assured him behind his back, looking at the reflection. He raised an eyebrow in interrogation.  
"Truly, I do. You look like the men from songs I used to sing as a child." She jested and he laughed along until he pulled her into a tight embrace.  
"But this is not who I am, Brienne of Tarth. I am a wildling, and I always will be. No matter what fine clothes you stuff me in or how many fine people you get me to meet. I shall still be Tormund, Lord of nowhere, wilding savage." He huffed, smoothing his hair and turning away from her, feeling inadequate. She came behind him and turned him to face her.  
"And I wouldn't have you any other way. Why do you think I haven't run off with one of these pompous pricks? It isn't a lack of offers, I can tell you that!" She jested.  
"Offers, eh?" He joked with her, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her, causing her to call out in laughter.  
"Come, come. We must go, else you shall be late and nobody is late for the Queen." She raised an eyebrow and he huffed, allowing her to lead him to a room full of people that would look at him as if he were a savage.

Petyr had been called to the Queen earlier that the others. He had entered the throne room, where she paced. Her hair was as white as people had told and she was as beautiful as people had professed.  
"Lord Baelish. How lovely it is to finally meet you." She walked towards him, her voice chiming like a bell. She placed her hand in his and he bowed, to which she smiled.  
"The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty." He stated reverently.  
"So, you are to be my Master of Coin?" She asked.  
"If your Majesty wishes it." He replied, slightly confused by her question.  
"How well do you know money?" She asked.  
"I run many businesses in King's Landing and i've never lost a coin. Everything I have I earnt myself." He promoted himself. Daenerys was impressed.  
"You shall do well on my small council." She decided and Petyr bowed in reply.  
"Stay. I shall be receiving my guests now." She ordered him and he followed perfectly as he watched her sit in the iron throne. He wondered if she should be sitting there before her coronation, but decided that she was not a woman to be trifled with and remained silent.

Tyrion stood beside Daenerys and explained who everybody was after their name had been announced. Daenerys was a wonderful leader, but she did not have much knowledge of the history and families of Westeros, an issue that could easily be resolved.

Petyr stood alone and watched as each well dressed highborn entered the throne room. He rolled his eyes as they all bowed and curtsied, still with fear in their eyes at meeting the Mother of Dragons.  
"Lord Tormund of beyond the wall." The squire called out and Petyr could hear the gasp that was shared by the guests. The doors opened and in he strode. He looked like any other knight meeting the Queen, dressed in what was definitely his best finery. Petyr nodded to the man after he bowed to the Queen and wondered how he had been scrubbed up so nicely. People parted when Tormund approached to which both he and the Queen to be, rolled their eyes.

She was the only person left. Daenerys had asked for her to be brought in last, so that she would have time to truly look at her, not having to wait upon anyone else. There was an obviously thick tension building in the room. Whispers had began about the poor Stark girl who had been beaten on the very same floor as they stood on. The crowd speculated if she would cope, if she could handle the trauma of her past.

Sansa stood with Varys, who could tell that she was nervous.  
"Do not fear. You shall be perfect." He reassured her and she nodded, not being able to say anything.  
"Lady Sansa Stark. Wardeness of the North." The squire announced and the room fell into silence. The doors opened and Sansa straightened her spine, lifted her head and began walking. Whispers should have begun. But people were so stunned that they could not find their voices. There she was, bold and triumphant. When they had last seen her, she looked like a timid little girl. But now, she looked like the Wardeness of the North, a woman of power. Her dress embroidered with fine skill, her skin glowing an alabaster ivory, her hair braided like snakes of fire and an expression upon her face that suggested that she would not be hurt again. The silence did not bother Sansa, it energised her, giving her power. Daenerys nodded her head slowly, watching the woman enter the room. She was confident, powerful and breathtaking. Her skin was as pale as snow and her lips glowed like rose petals. Daenerys saw much potential in this girl who could overcome so much tragedy in her life.

Petyr watched, his mouth hung agape, as Sansa approached the throne. Her dress glowed against the sunlight and truly looked like a Queen of the North. He had never seen her with so much confidence, with such drive and it could not have suited her more.

Sansa curtsied deeper than she ever had before, taking her time as she knew that countless eyes were on her.  
"Lady Stark, I have heard about the tragedies of your house. May I offer my condolences." Daenerys called out to Sansa. Every other guest had replied with a single sentence, a reverent thanks and a bow. However, Sansa did not see an authoritarian figure sat upon the throne. She saw a girl, much like herself, with no family and too much power to know what to do with.  
"Thank you, your Majesty. My condolences are with you also. As I am not alone in suffering due to tragedy." She stated, looking up at Daenerys. She was a breath of fresh air in a sea of reverent ponces. Daenerys beamed at the young girl from the North, who curtsied, before standing in front of Petyr Baelish. The crowd had began to mutter when Baelish leaned against the back of her neck and whispered:  
"Very well done, little wolf." She smiled, feeling her power wash over him. At the time, it had been simply a jest, but Sansa truly was becoming a superior player in this game the Baelish loved so much.


	10. The Feast

Daenerys sat, with her new crown placed upon her head at her feast. She was satisfied, for the first time in her life, she did not want for anything. She had her throne, her crown and people around her that she believed would serve her well. With Tyrion as her hand, Varys as Master of Whisperers and the Greyjoys acting as Master of Ships from the Iron Islands. Lord Baelish grew stranger the more she watched him. He watched everyone, observing everybody's business. Perhaps this was the trait of a clever man, or perhaps that of a very invasive one, upon this she could not decide. She was adequately astonished by Lady Stark's knight, Lady Brienne. Tyrion had spoken of her talents and Daenerys needed a Lord Commander, or perhaps a Lady Commander. She would ensure that Brienne would be offered the position, feeling that she could not find a better candidate. Where Lady stark was concerned, Daenerys did not know where she fit into her Capital, only that she should be there. She watched her as she ate, nibbling on lemon cakes. She looked completely foreign, surrounded by the glutinous Lords and Ladies, who could not get their fill of the meat and wine, as if she was of another world. She seemed almost completely preoccupied in thought and a woman in thought was a woman that Daenerys could respect.

Sansa thought back to the many feasts that she had attended in the Red Keep. Those where she sat beside Joffrey, and then those where she sat beside Tyrion as his wife. She thought back to the moment that Joffrey died and then her mind naturally diverted to the death of her father and then her friends: Margaery, Loras and so many others, all taken due to the greed of a single family. She nibbled on her lemon cake and attempted to not find herself in a slump from such thinking. Rather, she watched Tormund destroy a leg of lamb in a way that made the ladies of court blush.

Tyrion watched the crowd. Nobody whispered as they had, no one humiliated him or ordered him around and with this came a great sense of relief. His family, that had caused him so much pain and anguish over the years were finally gone and he felt free. Perhaps it was a crude and perverse way to view the deaths of your entire immediate family, but Tyrion was not a stranger to the perverse ways of life. He looked to Sansa and sighed happily, glad that they could still remain friendly after their brief marriage. He wondered if he would marry again. He knew that this would be his choice and that marriage would not be thrust upon him by Daenerys. But he was a man who was fond of companionship and there was the Lannister name to think of after everything. He thought back to Shae and shuddered at the thought. She was the closest he had ever felt to love, and she was just a cheap whore looking for her next job. Perhaps he would never love, maybe he was just not the sort.

The feast ended and people took to walking about the gardens and enjoying the Red Keep. This was the time that Daenerys received her plethora of gifts. From rare jewels to ancient books, each house had given a gift. Sansa stood before Daenerys empty handed and curtsied.  
"I am a maker of dresses. The gown that I wear, along with many others are of my own creation. My gift to you, your Majesty, is to fashion you a fine gown, if this would please you." Sansa bestowed her gift upon the new queen.  
"This would please me very much." Daenerys replied, liking this gift above all of the others.

Petyr watched as Sansa walked through the gardens, before perching on one of the elegant chairs. He took this opportunity to sit with her.  
"Lord Baelish. What a pleasure it is to see you." She beamed at him, before offering him to sit.  
"The pleasure is all mine, my Lady. How are you enjoying King's Landing?" He asked, wondering how the change of climate was affecting her.  
"I am enjoying it very much, my Lord. The warm air has always been so fine and I have missed the gardens so. It is one thing that Winterfell lacks." She pondered, thinking back to Winterfell, finding the image rather grey.  
"You must be enjoying yourself, Lord Baelish, as the Master of Coin. You were always very skilled with managing your finances." She complimented him.  
"I am in close proximity to my establishments and I am able to enjoy the benefits of the summer-like weather." He replied and Sansa found herself running out of things to say. That was one downfall to the Capital, it was always rather boring.  
"That gown is astonishing. If every man in the Red Keep does not desire you, then I am a terrible judge of character." He jested, lightening the mood. Sansa blushed and covered her mouth with her delicate hand.  
"Lord Baelish, you could never be described as a terrible judge of character. And I do believe that you are a man yourself!" She pointed out, wanting to invalidate his comment.  
"I most certainly am." Was his only reply and Sansa felt her cheeks burn a deep shade of scarlet.  
"Desire was not my objection, my Lord." She looked down to her hands, embarrassed at the situation.  
"Of course, a delicate flower like yourself would never have such thoughts. However, I fear we are not all as saintly as you, my love." He winked at her before leaving her to ponder upon his comments.

Brienne stood before the new Queen after the feast, in the Throne Room and waited to be spoken to.  
"Lady Brienne. I have been told of your strength and skill, and I am not disappointed." Daenerys spoke clearly.  
"I thank you, your Majesty. Your praise is the highest I may receive." Lady Brienne replied, bowing her head.  
"I am in need for a Lord Commander. However, I do not see why I can not have a Lady Commander sit at my small council. Do you understand what I am asking, Lady Brienne?" Daenerys asked cryptically. Brienne unsheathed her sword and knelt before the Queen.  
"I do, your Majesty and I accept the position if you deem me fit. To serve you and protect you, for as long as I shall have breath in my body." Daenerys smiled, impressed by Brienne's dedication.  
"Very well. I am glad. Come to the small council meeting tomorrow morning." She announced, before leaving Brienne alone in the Throne Room.

Sansa walked with a young Florent boy, only three years her senior. His kind green eyes and blonde curls reminded Sansa of Loras and she found his company rather comforting.  
"I daresay, my Lady, that you are very brave for returning to King's Landing after all of the horrendous things that happened to you, or so I have heard, tucked away in Brightwater Keep." He spoke to her in soft dulcet tones.  
"I suppose. However, I believe that it is the people that make a city cruel, rather than the city itself." Sansa thought aloud.  
"I suppose you are right. I would not suspect such developed thoughts to come from the mind of a woman, especially one so young." Sansa rolled her eyes.  
"Well, we surprise such men as yourself sometimes, Lord Florent." Sansa jested. He chuckled and his smile was sweet and youthful, but empty.  
"Perhaps you should visit Highgarden sometime. Our family has been bestowed inheritance through marriage, ever since, well you know. Godd day, my Lady." He bowed, before leaving her stranded, unsure how to think.

Daenerys did not hold an evening feast. Rather, most left in the late afternoon, leaving only a few guests. Lord Florent had asked Sansa to write to him, but she had decided that that was not the best of ideas. She watched as the people left in their fine carriages and wondered what lives they would be going back to, where they all lived, what their homes looked like. Sansa had not travelled often as a child and there was so much of Westeros that she had not seen. She sighed, pondering on the change that had occurred that day and how her life would be affected. She decided that the changes would be considerable. However, in what form they would take, she did not know.


	11. Ruined Plans

Sansa had been awoken by Petyr's knock at her door. She answered, after adorning appropriate robes to greet him.  
"Good morning, my love. I am here to ask you if you might join me for luncheon at mid day?" He asked, in a manner very unlike himself. Sansa took a moment to contemplate his offer and saw no harm in the proposed notion.  
"Yes of course, Lord Baelish." Sansa agreed.  
"Very good. I shall meet you on the terrace when the sun is at its peak in the sky." He smoothed her cheek with the tips of her fingers, before striding off. Sansa watched him as he went, wondering what had brought on this sociable nature.

Daenerys sat in the Small Council chambers, at the head of the table. Her breath came quick and shallow. She had lead the Unsullied and her few companions, but the men and women of Westeros were an entirely different kind of people. They would say one thing then do the complete opposite, their objectives changing to suit themselves above all others. Of course, Daenerys had met people like this before, but she had a strange sense that her new place in King's Landing was going to bring with it new challenges.

Brienne sat at the Small Council table and felt very out of place.  
"You see, I would like the unsullied to act as my Queen's guard." Daenerys stated.  
"That may be so, your Majesty, but you must have at least some Westerosi members of your Queen's guard to promote solidarity with your people and encourage young men and women to become knights." Brienne preached, knowing that the King's Guard had always been a motivator to any young man who wanted to become a knight.  
"I agree with Lady Brienne." Lord Tyrion began. "You may have some of your unsullied in your Queen's guard, but you must recruit some Westerosi knights to prove that you support local people." He compelled the Queen.  
"Very well, but I would still like some of the unsullied as my Queen guard, but I understand what you are saying, Lady Brienne. I shall entrust you to recruit appropriate knights for my Queen's Guard." Brienne bowed her head in respect.  
"Thank you, your Majesty. I shall take the utmost care in my selection."  
"Very good. I shall await your decision." Was all Daenerys said before moving onto another topic.

Petyr sat back and watched the meeting, not participating in order not to risk his position. He was not asked any questions about the finances of Westeros. He was glad of this, as the economy of the Queendom was in a fragile state.  
"Lord Baelish, I would like you to walk with me, through the city." Daenerys informed him as the others left. He could feel sweat begin to form at the base of his neck, knowing how little time he had before his luncheon with Sansa.  
"Very well, your Majesty." He attempted to sound forthcoming, not wanting to anger the Queen. But he very well knew that a walk through the city would mean him missing his time with Sansa.

Sansa arrived at the terrace at midday, when the sun was at its highest in the sky. A table had been arranged and a decanter of wine had been left with a plate of lemon cakes. She sat, understanding that the meeting must have been running late, and began to nibble on a cake and sip on her wine.

Petyr attempted to keep the Queen entertained as they walked through the streets, heavily guarded. It was difficult to talk to her with the level of noise surrounding them. Then, they came upon one of Petyr's brothels.  
"Is this not one of your establishments, Lord Baelish?" She asked. He began to feel very nervous, not wanting to take her into the brothel.  
"Yes, your Highness. But it is not a place for such a Lady as yourself." He attempted to convince her.  
"Nonsense, please, show me. I would like to see how you earn your money." Petyr attempted not to sigh at the stubborn Queen, before leading her into the hot, heavily inscensed building. The grunts and cries of faked passion were heard by everyone. Daenerys felt her eyes widen, not being in such an environment since her first khalasar. Petyr wanted to leave as soon as possible, hoping that he could return to Sansa and explain whilst begging for forgiveness. However, Daenerys had other plans and inspected the establishment in a great amount of detail. She played with the ruffles on the curtains, smelled the candles that glowed and listened to the guttural noises that filled the rooms.  
"What caused you to open this establishment, Lord Baelish?" She asked.  
"There is not a more successful business plan as a brothel. They will never go out of business." He replied simply, wanting this meeting to be over.  
"You are a clever man, Lord Baelish. I think you shall do as my Master of Coin. I do not need you to accompany me any further. Thank you for your company, it was most liberating." She thanked him. He bowed.  
"The pleasure is all mine." He said quickly, before dashing from the brothel and making his way back to the Red Keep.

Sansa had almost finished the plate of lemon cakes when Lord Tyrion wandered past. He noticed her, sat in her pastel blue gown, looking very glum, sipping on a goblet of wine.  
"My dear, whatever is the matter?" He asked her, alerting her attention.  
"I made arrangements with Lord Baelish, those of which he has so rudely ignored." She sighed, pushing the plate away from her.  
"Well perhaps I could join you? I have not eaten yet and apart from a few lemon cakes, neither have you, it seems." He smiled and she agreed, simply wanting some company. Podric appeared upon Tyrion's request. Sansa had brought him, along with Brienne, to King's Landing, where he was released from Brienne's charge and returned to the position of Tyrion's squire.  
"He really is one of the finest young men I have met. Thank you for bringing him back, he truly is indispensable to me." Tyrion stated after sending him off for meats and bread.  
"I do not know where Pe- Lord Baelish could be. Especially because it was he who invited me." She huffed, rather angry with him for leaving her in such an embarrassing position.  
"I did hear the Queen ask him if he would stay after the Small Council meeting. Perhaps she has kept him too long." Sansa pouted, hoping that this was the case, but still tingling with anger.  
"I am sure he shall be here soon. Then, he may join us." Sansa smiled, knowing that it would anger Petyr very much to have to share her with another, especially Lord Tyrion.

Petyr slowed his breath as he approached the Red Keep. It had been so long since he had agreed to meet Sansa that he was sure that she would have left. However, he arrived to find her sat, at their table, accompanied by Tyrion Lannister. Petyr sighed but supposed it was natural that she should not dine alone.  
"Lord Baelish, you are here! Come and join us." Sansa called over and her brilliant smile, combined with her melodic voice calling out brought a smile to his face.  
"Yes, I am here. The Queen asked me to tour her around the city." He sighed, pulling over a chair.  
"What a privilege. It must have been exciting for her, seeing new parts of the city." Sansa smiled up at Petyr, appearing very sincere. However, Petyr saw in her eyes that she knew exactly what she was talking about. He thought back to Daenerys, examining his brothel and had to fight the urge to shudder.  
"Yes, she seemed very excited." Was all he said in reply.  
"Lord Tyrion and I were speaking about the new court. Of who her highness will choose for her consorts. Did she give any indication as to who she was fond of?" Sansa asked, as if twisting the knife. He was sorry, but he could not apologise in front of Tyrion Lannister.  
"No, she did not speak of her court." He replied, pouring himself a glass of wine.  
"I suppose she had more personal worries to speak of with you." She smiled up at Petyr, before standing.  
"I am sorry, I have a meeting with Lord Florent. Good day." She curtsied before turning to leave. Petyr stared as she left. He wanted to follow her but knew that following would be a mistake.  
"She is not happy." Tyrion informed Petyr.  
"It could not be avoided." He replied, aggravated by the situation, not wanting to be informed by Tyrion about his Sansa.  
"Perhaps, perhaps." Tyrion mumbled as he left Petyr. He let his head fall into his hands, knowing that Sansa had the upper hand. In a fit of frustration, he slapped the goblet of wine from the table, wine staining the patio.

Sansa sat across from Lord Florent.  
"I am willing to pledge my allegiance to House Stark." He said frankly, brushing the curls away from his face.  
"I am glad to hear so, Lord Florent." She smiled up at him, glad that she could get such a wealthy allegiance.  
"However, my friendship does not come free." He smiled up at her and she could feel her eyes roll.  
"If you wish for support, then our houses must be joined." He stated simply. Sansa felt her jaw fall open, but consciously closed it. She could have openly refused him. However, she was smarter than that.  
"I thank you for your offer, Lord Florent. However, I fear your marriage proposal is wasted on me when our Queen remains without a husband. I would not feel comfortable becoming attached to you knowing that the Queen remains alone." He bowed his head.  
"I respect you for your love of the Queen. I have not felt myself worthy of her greatness." Sansa felt wounded by his remark, belittling her "greatness" compared to Daenerys. She stood and looked down at him.  
"Oh no, my Lord. I daresay your charms are of the standard to please any woman. Even the Queen herself. We may speak of alliances another time. Good day." She bid him goodbye before leaving the room.

Sansa walked about the castle, until she found herself in the Throne Room. She looked up at the Iron Throne and sighed. At one point, she had been so close to sitting beside the magnificent chair, but at no point had her occupying the throne crossed anyone's mind. She had always been the accessory, to Joffrey and then to Tyrion. She was nothing without a man. However, Daenerys had no man and she had taken the Throne. Perhaps she was a superior woman to herself. She cocked her head to the side and wondered if she herself could even imagine sitting on the Throne.  
"It is magnificent, isn't it?" She heard Varys from behind her.  
"Yes, yes it is." She agreed, looking down as he approached her.  
"However, so many people you hate have sat upon it." He remarked. And when she thought about it, he was right. Both Joffery and Cersei had sat upon the Iron Throne and she detested them both.  
"Do not feel envious of the Queen, my dear. It is we who are the lucky ones." He whispered, leaning in towards her." Sansa looked up to his knowing face questioningly.  
"How so?" She asked.  
"We enjoy the power and its advantages. Yet, we very rarely deal with the pressure of true power. The expectation can be crippling if one does not prepare themselves." He informed her and she was sure he was right, Varys usually was. He leant in even closer and whispered:  
"It's awfully uncomfortable as well." When Sansa looked up at him with wide eyes, he winked and began to wander off. She watched him leave, wondering if he had always been such good company.

Petyr sat in the gardens as the sun began to set. He knew he had to make things up to Sansa. He had pondered on the events of the day after Tyrion left. He could have refused the Queen's tour and offered a different day. He could have informed her of his plans. Petyr was sure if he had that she would have pardoned his leave. But he had done nothing and he understood that this was unacceptable. So, in order to make things right, he had written a note to Tyrion, informing him that he and Sansa would not be at dinner and had prepared a dinner for her in a secluded part of the gardens.

Sansa had received a note, asking her to come to the gardens at dusk. She could not withhold her curiosity and found herself walking to the gardens, alone. When she saw Petyr, stood by a table of food and a tall candle burning brightly she chuckled to herself, placing a hand over her smile.  
"Please, come and sit with me? Allow me to dine with you as I should have." He asked her. She did not reply with any words, rather she walked so close to him, to gently brush her hand across his, she heard his breath hitch, to which she smiled, before taking her seat.  
"I apologise, Sansa, for leaving you alone. That was never my intention." Petyr apologised, his eyes, filled with sincerity, illuminated by the candleglow. Sansa cocked her head, wondering how to reply. Part of her wished to mock him and speak about how she enjoyed Lord Tyrion's company. But no, she could not. He was finally making an honest gesture and she could not waste it.  
"Lord Florent asked me to join houses this afternoon." She changed the subject, not wanting to embarrass him any further.  
"And might I ask how you replied?" He asked, his eyes boring into her own.  
"I refused him." She replied in whispers. Once again his breath hitched.  
"You surprise me, my Lady. Lord Florent appears to be a version of Sir Loras, without his obvious quirks." Petyr's voice wobbled whilst attempting to be witty. Sansa began to sip on her soup, which was just the right temperature.  
"I could not accept him." She stated, hoping he would not ask for a reason, not wanting to feel the embarrassment that would come along with her reply.  
"Why?" He whispered huskily. Sansa attempted to focus on the soup for a moment, clearing her mind of any thought.  
"Sansa." He urged her on, not touching his food.  
"There is a person whom prevents me from becoming engaged to Lord Florent." She whispered, looking down at her soup.  
"Sansa-" He took her hand and Sansa could not think straight. Her mind flew in twenty different directions and she had to get some air.  
"I'm sorry." She apologised huskily, before getting up. However, before she could leave, Petyr stood and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Sansa was unsure why, but she began to cry. It was as if everything that she had never cried about was being brought to the surface. She was so young and she had been dragged through so much that trusting that he would not hurt her was simply too much. He pulled her into an embrace and smoothed her hair as she cried. He understood completely. The wounds of Ramsey, her Brothers and her parents were still fresh, never truly healing. So he held her, knowing that in that moment that was the best thing that he could do: stand and hold her, to let her know that he was not going to leave.


	12. Wounded Ego

Sansa stood, enfolded in Petyr's arms and felt rather ridiculous. Here she was, the supposed Wardeness of the North, crying and being held in comfort. Every muscle in her body told her to move, to pick herself up and check herself, to be the woman people thought her to be. But she had been that woman for too long. Her wounds had amassed and she was hurt. So, for this moment, she allowed herself to weep into the chest of Petyr Baelish.

He could feel her resistance, her pride not allowing her to be held and helped. However, after a while, her arms moved, wrapping themselves around his neck. He placed his palms flat on her back and pulled her closer. She had no one to hold her this way, to aid her in this way. No one but perhaps him.  
"Shh, I am here." He cooed to her.  
"But for how long?" She asked, envisaging him returning to the Vale, abandoning her.  
"For as long as you will have me." He reassured her. She looked up to him questioningly and he nodded, answering an unspoken question. She smiled and released herself from his grip. Surprisingly, they managed to return to their meal and continued eating.

Sansa was unsure what to say, how to begin a conversation. However, Petyr soon found a topic to speak about.  
"I will not hurt you as he did." He began, sipping on his soup. Sansa was unsure as to whom he spoke of: Joffrey or Ramsey. However, it didn't seem to matter so much.  
"You were so young when you were first brought here. So young and innocent, blindly trusting." He continued and she listened in silence.  
"So many took advantage then and I must admit that I was tempted. A beautiful young woman, from one of the most powerful houses in Westeros, it was tempting. But watching you change, slowly become less trusting of those around you, made me glad that I had not betrayed you." Sansa didn't know how to reply.  
"But, I did betray you." He stated simply, looking down into his soup. Sansa did not know what to say. He was correct, he had betrayed her and she was unsure how such a wrongdoing could be undone.  
"Why did you come with me? Why do you stay?" He asked her, wondering why such a beautiful vibrant young woman would limit herself with his presence.  
"I don't know." She replied before she could think and looked up immediately to find the deeply offended expression of Lord Baelish.  
"I think you should go." He stated. He was not so much angry at her, rather, angry at himself. He had made a massive mistake in sending her to Ramsey and he was unsure if he could ever forgive himself and looking at her in that moment made him think of all the despicable things he had done, so she had to go, only if for his ego to be rebuilt.

Sansa did not say anything, she had said enough. She merely stood, stomach still hungry for food and walked away, away from the man who sat crumpled and defeated. She wished she could do something. But as a lady, she was forbidden to make her feelings publicly known. She rushed back to her room, fearing that tears would spill over at any moment. When she arrived at her quarters, she slammed to door shut and slid down the oak. Her chest shook as she wept. She had opened the floodgates and there was no closing them now. She wept for her Father, for her Mother and Brothers, for her sister, wherever she might be and for herself. They had all suffered, most had died and here she was, crying over the choice to love or not love a certain man. She shook her head and attempted to pull herself together. Only then, did she receive a knock at the door.  
"Who is it?" She called, nose running and voice hoarse.  
"It is Gretchen, my Lady. I have a rather pressing issue for you." She called through the door.  
"Can't it wait until morning?!" Sansa called.  
"No, not really." Gretchen replied in haste.

Varys and Tyrion stood after dinner, watching Baelish and Sansa in the gardens. They remained silent, until Sansa had been gone for a few moments.  
"Do you think she cares for him?" Tyrion asked.  
"She loves him." Varys replied with such certainty that Tyrion took his eyes away from the sulking Baelish.  
"How can you be so sure?" Tyrion asked. Varys smirked at the question, but continued to answer.  
"You simply have to watch her. Everything she does, is fueled by his reaction. Even if he is not present, she acts as if he were, in anticipation for his arrival. She does not realise that she is doing it, but she does." Tyrion nodded and silenced himself in contemplation. She had seemed awfully confident and when they had spoken of Lord Baelish earlier in the day, it was obvious that she cared somewhat for him.  
"Perhaps you are right. Do you think he cares for her?" Tyrion asked, holding Varys' opinion in the highest regard.  
"I fear, with Littlefinger, that only time can tell." Varys replied and they both grimaced, hating to play the waiting game.

Sansa ran through the halls of the Red Keep, upon hearing the news on Arya.  
"My Lady, please do not run. If you fall on your dress!" Gretchen called after her, but Sansa heard nothing, her mind was only focused on seeing her sister again. She panted and huffed as she reached where Arya had been kept waiting. She was dressed in rags, with short hair and a dirty face. But Sansa had never seen a more beautiful sight. She ran faster than she had ever in her life and collided with her little sister. For the first time in her life, Arya returned the embrace. They both wept, having found one another and spent a moment enjoying each other's embrace. Sansa than held Arys at arm's length and looked, truly looked at her. She had no serious injuries and she looked mature, and pretty. Sansa chuckled and looked back to Gretchen.  
"Is there a room prepared for my sister?" She asked and Gretchen simply began leading them through the Red Keep.

Sansa wanted to ask everything, to learn what happened to Arys in those years that they had been apart. She wondered if she knew about their Mother and Brother, knowing that she must inform her if she did not. However, she simply could not bring herself to begin a conversation. It had been so long and they were both so different now that she felt she was walking beside a stranger. But Arya Stark was not a stranger, she was Sansa's flesh and blood and she was sure that within time she would learn of what had happened to her sister. However, that time would not be tonight.  
"I am shattered, I have travelled without rest for days. Please, let me rest and we shall speak tomorrow." Arya begged and Sansa ran her fingertips across her sister's cheek.  
"Of course, rest and we shall speak of all." Both Gretchen and Sansa left Arya to her own devices, upon request and Sansa dismissed Gretchen for the evening. She laid in bed, her mind filled with bewilderment and shock. After so many years that they had been apart, Arya had finally returned. And with the situation of Bran looking so bleak, they were the only Starks left. She wondered how she would begin to explain what had happened and was struck with a terrifying thought: Arya always knew Sansa's feelings better than anyone, even herself and if she was still the same Arya all she would have to do was take one look at Sansa and Petyr together and know what was happening. This thought scared her, but when she honestly thought about the situation, she was doing nothing wrong. Perhaps he was a little old for her and perhaps he was not the most obvious choice, but Sansa cared for him and perhaps Arya could help her figure out why.


	13. Abandonment

Sansa's night was filled with restlessness. The return of her sister filled her with an anxiety that she could not quite comprehend. Arya had always hated how Sansa had conformed and the fact that his had not so much changed would no doubt cause her to be judged harshly. She wondered what Arya had been doing for the time she had been gone and winced at the idea of the trouble she might have got herself into.

Petyr's night was also shrouded in discomfort. That night he had realised just how strong his feelings for Sansa were. If she had asked him to leave everything in that moment simply to be with her, he would have accepted without thinking. He had never been so vulnerable before, not even with Catelyn and the possibility of rejection terrified him to his core.

Arya awoke to the usual city smell of King's Landing. But, instead of being disgusted by the scent, she was rather relieved to be in the safety of the Red Keep. Only a moment after she awoke, Sansa knocked at her door and let herself in.  
"Would you like to dine alone or join the inhabitants of the Red Keep?" Sansa asked, allowing Arya to make the choice for herself. She was so afraid of being alone with Sansa, having to admit what had happened to her in the time she had been away, that sat in a room full of courtiers seemed less painful.  
"Very well. I shall warn you, there are not many of us." Sansa smiled and sat herself on Arya's bed. She itched to know what had happened, but she understood that it was rude to ask, so kept her mouth closed. Arya dressed in her rather masculine clothes and braided her hair to make herself look the least bit presentable. Sansa would have made a comment if they were still the children they used to be. But they weren't and she was perfectly content with her sister's attire.

They walked together in silence. Neither could bring themselves to begin a conversation. The silent company seemed comforting enough. They met with Lord Tyrion on their walk to the eating room and watched as his eyes widened at the sight of Arya Stark.  
"Lady Stark, what a pleasure it is to see you, after being away for so long." He bowed and joined them.  
"I have missed everything that has happened in King's Landing since I left." Arya stated, wanting the awkward air to dissipate.  
"Do not fear. We are starting afresh and all of the gossip and wrongful doings of the old crown shall be put to rest." Tyrion reassured Arya and looked to Sansa with a supportive smile.

Once they reached the dining hall, Varys, Petyr and Brienne were already sat, eating their breakfast. Once again, eyes widened and the feasting ceased, all attentions being paid to Arya.  
"Lady Stark, not even my little birds had heard of your being alive." Varys whispered to her.  
"I learnt to hide." She replied, causing him to smile.  
"Clever girl." He replied, impressed by her skill.  
"It is a wonderful surprise to see you again, after all this time." Petyr bowed to her. She shunned off his compliment, much to the worry of Sansa.  
"Lady Stark, I am Brienne of Tarth, Lady Sansa's personal guard." She bowed and Arya took an immediate liking to Brienne, opting to sit beside her, rather than beside Sansa.

Petyr saw the fear and anxiety behind the joy in Sansa's eyes. Nonetheless, she still took the seat that remained unoccupied beside him, much to his glee.  
"When did she arrive?" He asked, his mouth close to her ear, causing Sansa to blush at the breakfast table, not that anyone was paying them any mind.  
"Last night." Was her only reply. Her voice was shaky and her body was tense.  
"I am sorry about last night. I was confused and I shouldn't have said what I-" Her voice was only a whisper, but it was frantic and worried. He placed his hand in her's under the table, ceasing her apology.  
"Stop, it was I that was in the wrong. We can speak about it later." He smiled down at her and she nodded, glad that any blame that could have been placed on her had been forgotten.

After breakfast, Sansa and Arya walked the streets of King's Landing, for the first time since their Father had been executed.  
"Arya?" Sansa began and Arya prepared herself for the questioning. She knew that her sister deserved answers, but they were so difficult to give.  
"Arya, what happened? Where did you go?" Sansa asked simply, pain riddling her voice. Arya took a deep breath and began.  
"I was abducted the day that Father- well I was taken to be a member of the Knight's watch, because they thought I was a boy. Things got very difficult there on in and all that you need to know is that I am here now and that that part of my life is over." They stopped and surprisingly, Sansa was satisfied with Arya's answer. It seemed that the less she knew, the less she was haunted by the fact that she did not do enough. She nodded to Arya, but Arya noticed that Sansa was not exactly the same as she used to be. There was a hardness behind her eyes that had not been there before.  
"Sansa, what happened to you?" The last time that Arya had seen her, Sansa was living a rather affluent life, one that many would pine after, on the road to becoming the future Queen of Westeros, exactly what she wanted.  
"Joffrey replaced me with Margaery Tyrell and married me to Tyrion Lannister." Sansa hung her head in shame. Arya knew this much from the crude plays that she had seen.  
"After Joffrey's death, Lord Baelish saved me and took me to the Vale. I had to disguise myself in fear that Cersei would have had me killed. I then married Ramsay Bolton, and that was where things all went wrong." Sansa hung her head once again. Arya knew not to push the subject, now knowing what men could do to women.  
"Rickon is dead." She announced as they walked further.  
"How?" Was Arya's instinctual reply.  
"Ramsay Bolton." Sansa replied flatly.  
"Did he suffer?" Arya asked, hoping that a vile death had befallen him.  
"I fed him to his dogs." Arya was surprised by her sister, but more proud than disgusted.  
"Good."

Arya had arranged a sword fighting lesson with Brienne and Tormund after their morning of Knight workshops and they both found that they enjoyed her company immensely. Sansa was a wonderful girl and they respected her undoubtedly, but she did not have fun the way they had fun. Arya was quick and skilled in her sword fighting, but there was still so much she needed to learn.

Sansa herself had been given the measurements of the Queen and had set herself to work straight away. She did not wish to dress the Queen in gaudy colours or flashy designs. So, she had a deep navy fabric picked out and based the design around her white gown that she had worn to the coronation. She knew it was not what the Queen was used to wearing. But perhaps she would be glad of a Westerosi addition to her wardrobe. Sansa adored the new project as it allowed her mind to wander as she sewed. She was delighted that Arya had returned, but would she stay? King's Landing had never been the place for Arya and Sansa had a niggling suspicion that she was not planning to stay.

Sansa was in fact right in her predictions and Arya set off to the docks to search for a captain crazy enough to sail west. She asked many men, hoping she she would find one. Just as she had accepted defeat, a man called to her.  
"I'm heading West." He called out in a gruff voice.  
"There are good fish in the West." He added and Arya raised her eyebrows in curiosity, looking at this rotund fisherman, wondering if he was her ticket out of Westeros.

Petyr sat at his desk, working on his financing. The Queen had agreed to begin the sale of dragon glass produced by her creatures, meaning that the crown could begin to dig its way out of the hole they had created for themselves. However, Petyr was not focused. The arrival of Arya Stark plagued his mind. He was glad, of course that Sansa's sister had returned. But he could not help fearing what this would mean for Sansa. Would they return to the North? Would Sansa feel the need to look after her sister and take her away from King's Landing? He did not know. But he knew that Arya had not always been his most avid fan and that this was going to be an issue.

Arya had decided that she would journey with the fisherman. He was offering a very small price and would take her as far as he could venture, and this was all that she had asked for. However, the downfall was that they were to leave the very next day and she knew that her sudden departure was going to hurt Sansa. So, she asked her to the gardens, knowing that it was best to break the news somewhere where she could be happy.

Sansa knew as they began walking, that something wasn't right. There was a tension that had not been there before and she felt her body begin to stiffen, hardening itself against what was to come.  
"Sansa, for a long time I have been seeking a dream, a dream that is now possible for me." She began, wondering how to break the news.  
"What is this dream?" Sansa asked, wondering what her sister sought after.  
"I wish to travel west of Westeros." She stated plainly, letting the coins fall where they may.  
"I do not know what to say." Sansa muttered. This was something she should have expected from Arya. It was dangerous and exciting, exactly how all her dreams had been.  
"I have found someone to take me." Sansa's pace slowed as she attempted to fight back tears.  
"I am glad for you, to be able to find your dream." She attempted to keep her composure.  
"We leave at dawn." She continued and Sansa bit her cheek so hard that she tasted the coppery flavour of blood. She would not cry, not in front of Arya.  
"I do hope you find what you seek." She stated, before turning and continuing her journey into the garden. Arya watched her, remembering the betrayal that she saw in Sansa's face. She could have followed her, attempted to comfort her. But no, she had not been there and things were different now. They were two different people and Arya was choosing to go her own way. So, she turned and left, leaving Sansa alone, in the garden.

Sansa sat on one of the stone benches and stared at a blue-grey flower. It was one that she had never seen before, but found herself entranced by now. The one chance she had at being with her sister had been ruined and she had not said anything. She knew that she could not change Arya's mind, she was far too stubborn to ever be swayed. Sansa wondered if she would ever see her sister again, but then realised it didn't matter all that much. Arya had chosen Arya, rather than the Stark family and in doing so, she was not truly a Stark. Sansa allowed one tear to fall, only a single tear. Then, she stook, patted down her skirt and continued her tour around the garden.

Petyr noticed at dinner, that Sansa was not herself. Her sister was absent and her expression seemed to suggest that things had not gone to plan. He wanted to speak to her, to ask what had happened and find out if he could help. But he could not, he could not embarrass her that way in front of everyone.  
"Where is your delightful sister, Lady Sansa?" Varys asked and just as he had, he wished he hadn't, as Sansa looked up at him with noticeable tears in her eyes.  
"My sister shall be be joining us no more. She sails West at dawn. Sansa's voice was flat and unfeeling. Petyr understood now. Her only true flesh and blood had decided to leave her, abandon her, just as she feared he would.  
"Ah, I see. The West is an area unchartered, I am sure she shall make some fine discoveries." Tyrion added and Sansa nodded.  
"Yes, I am sure." She stated, closing the subject.

Everyone watched Sansa leave the dinner hall and it was obvious that everyone wanted to help her. But in a silent agreement, they decided that she was best left alone. She did not cry, as she had suspected. Rather, she threw herself into her work and continued with the Queen's dress. She did not sleep that night, and managed to complete the dress to her satisfaction. However, when the sun threatened to break into the sky, she left her room, only in night clothes, to the highest spot in the Red Keep, to watch her sister leave.

Petyr knew that he should not go to her, but he knew exactly where she would be when Dawn was about to throw the world into brilliant light. He walked through the Red Keep, heading towards the Throne Room. Then, he saw her, stood in her white nightgown, her fiery hair tumbling down her back, stood by the window, watching the ships. She did not know which one her sister was on, only that Arya was out there and she was in here and the separation in that moment seemed very profound. He stood far away from her, not wanting to disturb her, but after a while, he began to approach, wanting to comfort her, in any way he could.

She heard his footsteps, making his way towards her and sighed. She was glad that he had come, fearing that she would have stood there all day if he had not. He kept his distance, standing just behind her, not touching, simply watching. She knew he would not make the first move. She knew that he would only offer her help if she asked for it. So, she turned away from the boats, away from her sister, growing ever smaller and slid her hands under his arms, resting her head on his chest. Her breath became heavy as she felt his arms envelop her. She wondered even more now, if he would leave her. If her own flesh and blood could leave, then what was stopping him?  
"I will never leave you, Sansa Stark." His whispered against her hair, as if reading her thoughts. And for the first time, looking up at his face, full of sincerity and honesty, she fully believed him.  
"I know." She replied and saw the wave of relief wash over his face, he had gained her trust and it dawned on Sansa then that what they had was not so much a game, playing against one another, rather a war against both themselves and those around them, and the only way that they could be victors was if they worked together and to Sansa, that seemed like a challenge she was willing to take on, so long as he was there, to help her and aid her, through everything that might come their way.


	14. Confusion

That day, Sansa presented the Queen with her gown.  
"Oh, I love it!" She exclaimed, looking at herself in the mirror.  
"You are simply wonderful!" She cried, her fingers running over the embroidery. Sansa felt her cheeks blush. She was glad that the Queen enjoyed her dress, but she wished to be alone, not feeling in the mood to be around others.  
"Thank you, your Highness, I am so glad that you like it." Sansa curtsied to the Queen.  
"I do so wish that I could stay and spend more time in your company, but I am afraid that I have a meeting with Lord Baelish." She squeezed Sansa's arm before leaving her alone.

Varys watched her, as he had many times before. He had seen Sansa Stark become strong and confident over time. But today was different. She stood in the Throne Room, looking down into the gardens. He was unsure what she was looking at, but what he did know was that she was different this day, to all of the others since she had returned to King's Landing. She looked weak and hurt. He approached her, standing beside her, watching the Queen walk with Lord Baelish around the gardens, smiling and laughing, exchanging moments of affection.  
"This appears to be my spot as of late." Sansa began, to the surprise of Varys.  
"Do you know which boat she left on?" He asked, knowing that Arya had left at sunrise.  
"I do not think that it matters so much. She is gone and I am left to tackle the restoration of the House." She sighed, speaking matter of factly.  
"If it is any consolation, you are a far superior leader to your sister. I would trust the future of the Stark house unto your hands rather than hers any day." He smiled down at her and watched as her eyes never left them, walking, hands touching arms every now and then.  
"But how must my house progress if not through marriage?" She asked, knowing that despite everything she might tell herself, marriage and children were a necessity to the continuation of the house." Varys saw how she watched Petyr and knew that a deeper question was being asked.  
"Of course, marriage is a large part of strengthening a house. But, you should not marry if you do not wish it. The time for such things is over." He assured her, wondering now if her feelings for Baelish were as strong as he once thought.  
"How can I wish it if my suitor will not even ask me? Perhaps he is seeing if it is possible to rise higher." She watched as Petyr charmed the Queen with his wit and quick thinking.  
"Then, if that is the case. He is not a suitor worth having." Varys also looked down at Petyr, shaking his head. He was breaking the poor girl's heart out of his own greed and selfishness.  
"Perhaps there is no suitor for me. Perhaps I am cursed to live a life alone." Sansa mused, wondering if perhaps she was not as charming as she had once thought.  
"Do not ever say such things. You are one of the finest women in Westeros. You wait and fine men shall be flocking from all seven kingdoms for your hand in marriage and perhaps then this suitor of yours will not be of as much importance." He smiled up at her and finally she looked away from Petyr, up to Varys and smiled.  
"I am not sure I would like them to flock." She chuckled.  
"Well, my dear, you nor I can control the actions of men around a beautiful women." He jested, holding an arm out to her.  
"Come, let us eat." He offered and Sansa nodded, feeling in far higher spirits in the company of Varys than alone.

Brienne had completed her selection for the Queen's guard. She had chosen a fine group, consisting mostly of men, but also one woman. There was one man who shone above the rest, a young man from Tarth, Brienne's homeland.  
"He really is very good." She assured Tormund whilst finishing her last mouthful of meat.  
"Yes, I am sure he is." He sulked. He was scared of how accustomed he was becoming to the finery of King's Landing. If his Father had seen him in this moment he would be ashamed. But he knew, in a way that being in King's Landing was a massive opportunity for him, giving him a chance at a better life. He wondered if he deserved it, knowing that he wanted it and this conflict brought within him a great amount of turmoil. The mention of this new knight that Brienne was so fond of pushed his temper further. She had been his rock, allowing him to help her in her duties and informing him of the Westerosi customs. She had, in the past, suggested that there was a romantic attachment between them. But, as of late, the passion that had burned between them had all but died and Tormund feared that this new knight had all but come in and stolen Brienne away from him.  
"He is quicker with a sword than anyone I have ever seen!" He wanted to remain silent, but he could not.  
"I do not understand you, woman!" He shouted, slamming his fist down on the table, taking Brienne by complete surprise.  
"I let myself become attached as a man does with a woman, believing that you were the same and now I hear that this new knight has stolen you from me and taken place in your heart and bed no doubt!" He shouted and not a second later, Brienne stood and slapped him clean across the face, offended by his comment. He caught her hand afterwards and pulled her down onto his lap. If he had sensed any resistance, he would have let her go. But, he noticed the smirk appear on her face and entangled his arms around her waist, pressing his lips forcefully against Brienne's. She entangled her fingers in his hair and pulled tighter than usual, causing him to gruffly moan into her mouth.  
"All that I said was that he was good with a sword you silly jealous man!" She scolded him in jest.  
"Well a man can do many things with his sword." Tormind replied, bucking his hips and causing Brienne to cry out in laughter. It was completely and utterly improper, but that was what made it so absolutely delicious.

Tyrion sat with Varys after their midday meal.  
"The poor girl, first her sister and now this." Varys shook his head, pouring himself a glass of wine.  
"What could he be waiting for?" Tyrion asked, knowing that Sansa would make the right man a wonderful wife. A knowing smile appeared on Varys' face and Tyrion leaned in in anticipation.  
"Sansa is convinced that Baelish is attempting to court the Queen." Varys whispered, raising his eyebrows knowingly. Tyrion, however furrowed his in thought.  
"But we know that he has feelings for her. Would he honestly give up love for power?" He asked in shock.  
"That is the question. This is Littlefinger we are talking about. Perhaps the thought of being King is too irresistible to miss." Varys stated. Tyrion sat back in shock.  
"But it will never happen. Daenerys will never go for Baelish. If not for his being in love with another woman, then his sheer lack of power." Tyrion stated, in shock of the situation.  
"Perhaps you should speak to him. You have been married to Sansa before and we both care for her well being and if he is looking to propose to the Queen then he is not the right man for her and we must warn her." Varys assessed the situation.  
"I have never heard you look out for another person like this before." Tyrion stated.  
"What can I say? I like the girl and I don't want to see her broken again." He explained himself, causing Tyrion to nod in agreement.  
"I shall speak to Baelish." Tyrion announced.

Petyr sat in his room, writing letters before dinner. He had thought about going to Sansa, but the Queen had said that she had been very upset that morning, so he decided that it was best for her if she were left alone. Petyr was so glad that Daenerys had been so approving of his idea of marriage between himself and Sansa. He knew that without her support, a marriage could never happen.  
"She is such a wonderful girl and if she cares for you then I have no objections to a marriage." She rejoiced, becoming more comfortable in his presence that morning in the garden.  
"But I shall have to ensure that what you say is true and that she does truly care for you." She warned and stated that she would speak to Sansa later that day. Petyr did so wish that she would reassure the Queen that she cared for him.

Sansa felt her palms begin to sweat as she sat with the Queen. She was unsure what this meeting was about and the uncertainty made her feel uncomfortable.  
"I took a lovely walk with Lord Baelish this morning." Daenerys began and Sansa wondered if she had summoned her simply to gloat in Sansa's face, proving herself to be the winner of Petyr's affections.  
"Yes, your Highness. Lord Baelish does prove to be stimulating company if he is in the right mood." Sansa complimented Petyr, speaking the truth.  
"He spoke very highly of you." She stated and Sansa looked up in surprise and a strange kind of hope.  
"I am glad, your Highness. I value Lord Baelish's opinion immensely. He is a fine man." Sansa once again sang compliments of Petyr, not wanting the Queen to think ill of him.  
"Yes, yes he is. The woman who gained his favour would be lucky indeed." Daenerys studied Sansa's reaction and smiled as she blushed.  
"Yes, lucky indeed." Sansa replied, looking down at her hands, wondering what kind of game Daenerys was playing with her.  
"Lord Baelish spoke about your time together in the Vale." Once again, Sansa blushed and Daenerys smiled.  
"Yes, he saved me from a terrible situation and for that I shall always be grateful." Sansa smiled up at the Queen and it seemed, Daenerys had all the information she needed.  
"He cares about you very much." She stated and Sansa felt a stabbing pain, as if the Queen were rubbing her victory in.  
"And I him." Her voice faltered for a minute and Daenerys smiled.  
"That will be all. Have a lovely day, Lady Sansa." She dismissed her and Sansa left feeling both upset and confused.

Sansa sat beside Varys at dinner. Tormund and Brienne were not in attendance, due to having a private meal as an apology from Brienne by becoming too engrossed in her work and Daenerys dined with her closest friends. So that left only Varys, Petyr, Tyrion and Sansa at dinner. The air was thick with an uncomfortable tension as they picked at meats and fruits whilst they drank their wine.  
"The dress that you made for the Queen was quite stunning, Sansa." Petyr commented and Sansa blushed.  
"I am sure it is the Queen's beauty that enhances the dress." Sansa assured Petyr.  
"That is not true. You are very talented, I have always said so." Petyr complimented Sansa, to which she thanked him. The conversation died down as they all ate and Petyr wondered what had happened, apart from the obvious departure of her sister to make her so glum. He wished he could ask her, but he felt uncomfortable doing so in the presence of Varys and Tyrion. As if Varys had read the situation, he looked down to Tyrion's empty plate and took advantage.  
"I see that you have finished, Lord Tyrion. Let us take a turn around the city. I have matters to discuss with you and the night is so fine." Tyrion caught on and accepted Varys' invitation, leaving Sansa and Petyr alone.

Sansa watched as Petyr approached her and occupied the seat beside her.  
"Sansa, my love. What is the matter?" He asked looked down at her quivering lip in curiosity and worry.  
"I-I can't tell you." She whimpered, letting a tear fall down her cheek.  
"Yes you can. You can tell me anything. You know that." He took her hands in his and looked down at her with intent. It took a while for Sansa to build the courage to admit her fears. But she supposed that now was just as good a time as any and she might as well say all and risk his anger than remain silent and be right.  
"I fear I have lost your favour to the Queen." Petyr let his hands fall from hers, in absolute shock.  
"I saw you this morning, in the gardens. She is so charming and wonderful and the _Queen_!" Sansa's words became quicker and more erratic. Petyr stopped her words by pulling her close and placing his lips softly against her's. Sansa felt her eyebrows raise, utterly confused by the entire situation.  
"The Queen is a very charming woman, but you shall always be the woman for whom I favour." He looked into her eyes, reassuring her of his affection.  
"But, this morning, you seemed so affectionate together." Sansa stated. Petyr chuckled, brushing the backs of his fingertips across her cheek.  
"I wanted her to be fond of me because I was asking her a very important question." He stated and Sansa shook her head, utterly confused. Petyr smirked and took her hand.  
"Come with me." He ordered softly, pulling her up.

Sansa wondered where Petyr was taking her. He led her out into the garden and Varys had been right in saying the night was beautiful. It was at the time of day when the sun has just settled past the horizon, but a warm glow still lingers. The flowers released a scent that Sansa could not get over, feeling herself become giddy. Petyr's hand still remained in her's and Sansa was still unsure as to what was happening. They stood in the most beautiful part of the gardens, that that looked over the entire city. Petyr then took both of Sansa's hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes, not needing to search to find what he sought.  
"Sansa, the question I asked the Queen is not the question you suspect. She is a fine woman and I respect her immensely. But, I do not love her. The question I had to ask her concerned the woman I do love." He stated and Sansa felt her heart flutter.  
"You have been through so much, felt so much pain. Some of which was my doing and I am eternally sorry." He apologised and his voice faltered for a moment.  
"You shall never experience that pain again, so long as I am here with you. Sansa, I watched you grow from a childish girl to the strongest, most beautiful woman in the world. You have been hurt and I know my words are difficult to trust. But I want to prove to you, Sansa Stark, that you are worth all of the love in the world, that you are in the highest of favours, and shall remain there always." Sansa understood now what was happening and allowed her mouth to fall agape. Petyr lowered himself elegantly to one knee and looked up at Sansa, who had never appeared more beautiful in his eyes, with her mouth agape in pure sock and her eyes bright with anticipation.  
"I asked your brother before we came to King's Landing and I have asked the Queen. I love you, Sansa Stark and I wish never to be away from you again. You are my light, my strength, my beauty and I could never imagine that I could love someone so much, yet here I am, a man made a fool in love." He chuckled at himself, sighing hearing Sansa's melodic giggle.  
"I do not want your lands or your power. I want you, Sansa and you alone. Please, let me prove my love for you for the rest of my days and say that you will be my wife." He begged as his voice faltered, tears coming to his eyes. Sansa stood for a moment and looked down at the man which she could now admit to herself that she loved. He was down on his knees, begging for her to take him as her husband. She could not deny now that his feelings were genuine, she could not deny that he loved her, so, she took the leap.  
"I love you, Petyr Baelish and every day I spend with you is the richest in my life. I accept your proposal." Sansa replied and pulled Baelish off of the floor. For a moment, he was in a state of pure shock, shock that she had accepted him, shock that his dream was becoming a reality. He held Sansa tightly in his arms, smelling the lemon scent on her skin and in that moment, he vowed that he would never let her go.


	15. Training

Sansa awoke to a new world. This engagement did not feel like the others. She did not feel duty bound nor forced. She had very much made the choice for herself and felt like an equal participant, rather than a prisoner held captive. Another difference was that this engagement was to be kept secret until the Queen announced it and there would need to be an event fitting for the occasion, which at this moment in time, there was not. Sansa did not so much worry that people would not know of her attachment, for her engagement was not to be shown off to the masses, it was for she and Petyr, to enjoy together and something about that fact seemed so much more truthful and pure than her previous matrimonies.

Petyr could not believe that the world he lived in was real. Sansa had agreed to marry him and she, in due course, was going to be his wife. It all seemed so surreal and mystical that he could hardly believe it. He wished that he could stand in the middle of the square and scream his joy at the top of his lungs. However, the engagement was to be kept secret, but that would not stop Petyr from spending every moment he could with Sansa.

As soon as Varys saw them, he knew what had happened. Sansa blushed under Petyr's gaze and when he asked her if he may have tea with her, she smiled gleefully at him and accepted. Their relationship was pure and simple, there were no treaties, no merging of houses, simply a Lord and Lady who had decided that they could not live their lives without one another. Varys smiled knowingly, he was so glad for Sansa, this was everything she had ever wanted, and this time, nothing stood in the way of her happiness.

After breakfast, Tyrion and Sansa walked together. The question hung in the air and Tyrion longed to ask, but knew that he could not.  
"You seem in very fine spirits, Lady Sansa." He commented, watching her blush beneath her braids.  
"Yes, my Lord. my current circumstances have made me very gleeful indeed." She explained herself, vaguely enough that she was not breaking any rules.  
"I am glad. You deserve every bit of happiness. You have suffered so much, been through more marriages than anyone ought and have emerged on the other side." He stated as they stopped in the garden.  
"I do hope that you shall find the same happiness in time. You are a fine man, Lord Tyrion and you deserve happiness." She returned the compliment, which caused Tyrion to uncharacteristically blush.  
"Well, perhaps at some point, I shall find that happiness. However, for now, I must leave you. Good day, my Lady." Tyrion bowed and Sansa watched him walk off, filled with determination.

A letter had arrived before Sansa and Petyr's tea. But she decided that she should open it in his company.  
"Read it to me, my little wolf." He commanded and Sansa began to read the letter.  
"Dear Sansa,  
I have secured some parchment and ink from my captain but I fear that it is in short supply. I am sorry how I left things in Westeros, but I have learnt so much since I have left. I have been accepted into the society of the Western people and have become a combat tutor to the young boys and girls. I feel I have a true purpose here and I hope that within time, you shall forgive me." Sansa looked down at the parchment and wondered how to feel. Petyr waited for Sansa to begin before making his verdict.  
"I think it is positive that she is happy. I would not have wanted to her to stay if she would have been miserable and I think my sister shall always be miserable if she has not travelled to every corner of the world." Sansa chuckled, understanding how little her sister had changed.  
"If it was what was right for her, then I am glad that she has gone. She has never been one to play by the rules, perhaps a bit of a lone wolf dare I say." Petyr rubbed his thumb against the back of Sansa's hand, in comfort.  
"Yes, I think that you are quite right. Arya had always been more comfortable with solitude than any of the other girls in Winterfell. Perhaps she was always destined to be an explorer." She smiled, at peace with the situation.

They sat and drank their tea in silence for a long while, ignorant of the commotion that was being caused inside. Daario Naharis had returned, alongside Sir Jorah Mormont, to aid the Queen. Daenerys had always known that they would not stay away. However, their arrival was quite the surprise nonetheless. However, Sansa and Petyr dined out in the grounds, unaware of the happenings of the Queen.  
"Do you ever think the Queen shall be wed?" Sansa asked, wondering what future lay ahead for Daenerys Targaryen.  
"I believe she must, if not for Westeros' sake, for the Targaryen's name's sake. She is the only surviving Targaryen and whether she wishes to acknowledge it or not, her house will die out if she does not have children." He stated bluntly. Sansa blushed at the idea of the Queen being in such a compromising position. However, she knew that Petyr spoke the truth.  
"Do you think that she shall marry for love, or for duty?" Sansa asked, wondering if the Queen could hold onto her throne if she did not marry a highborn Westerosi man.  
"I do not think the Queen shall be persuaded into matrimony. I believe that she shall marry whom she pleases, as it should be." Sansa nodded, once again knowing that he was correct. The rest of their time together was spent speaking about Jon and the men of the North, as well as Brienne and Tormund, who both Petyr and Sansa had guessed were in some kind of secret relationship.

Daenerys stared at the now scarred skin of Jorah Mormont in wonder, touching it with the pads of her fingertips. Although pink and puffy, the infection had gone.  
"You are healed?" She asked, knowing that he would not let her touch him if he were not. All Jorah could do was nod. Daenerys did not ask the method, not wanting to hear of the brutal trials he had undergone. All that mattered was that he was safe and on the road to recovery.  
"Your Majesty, I have not travelled alone. I warned him not to come. However, he insisted." Jorah rambled, his head facing the ground.  
"Who?" She asked, her voice stern and her eyes sterner still. Before Jorah could reply, there he was. Daario stood in the doorway, eyes wide in awe of the vision that was her and a pathetic smile plastered on his face.  
"My hand shall have a room arranged for you. Go, Sir Jorah and enjoy the delights that are the Red Keep." Daenerys dismissed him, never taking her eyes from Daario.  
"Yes, my Queen." Jorah replied, leaving very much with his tail between his legs.

Now they were left alone, old lovers and close allies.  
"You look different." He commented, noticing her different style of dress.  
"I told you to stay in Dragon's Bay." Daenerys scolded, turning her back from him.  
"I left the command to my most trusted companion. He is far superior to me in every way." Daario reassured Daenerys.  
"Good, perhaps he shall stay, rather than leaving his post." She taunted him and he sucked it up, knowing that he would have to receive his punishment.  
"I-I could not stay away." He whispered, looking down to the ground.  
"So you let your lust overcome you? That is not the sign of a man of strength." Daengerys turned to look at him.  
"You think it is only lust I feel for you? If it were only lust then I might have stayed with the whores of Dragon's bay. I lo-"  
"Do not speak those words. I can not hear them." She held her hand up stopping him.  
"I suggest you go and find Jorah and enjoy the gardens with him whilst I decide what to do with you." She scolded him, to which he bowed and left, holding his head high, knowing that she would accept him eventually.

She watched him leave and for the first time since becoming Queen she cried. Daenerys sat on the floor of her bedchamber and wept like a child. She loved him, she knew that now. But she did not want to and she wished with all of her might that she might overcome this emotion. But she knew that it was no use. He had her body and her soul and all that she could do now was give in. She had not felt anything when she had left him, but only seeing him now had made her realise how utterly alone she had been. Her flesh tingled seeing his hands and his arms that had held her so many times. She desired to be held and then, in a moment of genius, thought of a way to divert her energy: Sansa. No doubt Sansa was just as scared and ignorant as she had been when she had first been married to Drogo. Daenerys knew that Sansa had been married many times before, but they had never been true marriages and she wanted to ensure that Sansa would have a healthy marriage. So, Daenerys wiped away her tears and requested from the men who always kept guard outside of her door to fetch Sansa Stark, who was about to undergo some of the most important training of her life.


	16. Unharnessed Power

Sansa once again felt nervous, having been summoned by the Queen. However, when she arrived at Daenerys' quarters, she discovered that there was nothing to fear. The Queen smiled and embraced her, before asking Sansa to sit.  
"Lady Sansa, I wanted to speak to you about marriage." Daenerys stated, causing Sansa to blush a deep shade of crimson.  
"I have the knowledge that you have been married twice, have you not?" Daenerys asked and Sansa knew that she could not deny her an answer.  
"Yes, your highness. First to Tyrion Lannister, then to Ramsay Bolton." Sansa stated, staring at her hands in her lap.  
"And have you ever lied with a man?" Sansa's head snapped up, looking at the confident Queen, wondering what had prompted such a question.  
"I am unsure how to answer that question, your Highness." Sansa replied, unsure how to describe what had happened between her and Ramsay.  
"Nonsense." Daenerys replied, unsatisfied with her answer. Sansa took a deep breath and wondered how to respond.  
"I have never willingly laid with a man. But physically, yes, a man has taken me." Daenerys now understood of what Sansa spoke. She felt the colour drain from her face, knowing that a girl so young should never be put into such a situation.  
"I understand. Well this time shall be different. Baelish will never force, let me assure you of that." She stated, realising that this was going to be far more challenging than she had once suspected.

Sansa felt uncomfortable speaking of such things with the Queen. But part of her was glad that she had someone who she could ask her questions to.  
"I am worried, your Highness." Sansa admitted, after a short amount of time.  
"Tell me of your worries." Daenerys invited Sansa, hoping that she could offer some advice. Sansa felt herself blush deeply, but then took a deep breath and confessed.  
"Lord Baelish's profession is in the whoring world. He has trained some of the finest lovers in King's Landing. But I am not so experienced and I do not possess such skill and I fear that he will be disappointed with me." Sansa looked down at her hands, feeling very embarrassed by the topic of conversation. Daenerys stopped for a moment, wondering how to reply.  
"Lord Baelish does own whorehouses but I do not believe that he himself takes pleasure in the women he employs. Baelish does not want a courtesan, he wants you, with all of your innocent charm and beauty." Sansa wondered if the Queen could be right. Petyr must have found her attractive, else he would not have asked her to be his bride. However, the night that they had laid together, he had not made a single improper move, which made Sansa slightly nervous.

Daenerys realised that talking was going to be of no use. So, she invited Sansa to walk with her around the city.  
"Look how that woman gazes at Grey Worm." Daenerys pointed to the large breasted woman. She looked up from under her blonde lashes, in a way Sansa had only seen whores and perhaps Margaery Tyrell do.  
"Yes, your Highness. I see." Sansa replied, feeling flustered looking at the woman.  
"Your eyes are your most powerful tool. They will allow you to communicate to Baelish your desires, without having to physically compromise yourself." Daenerys stated, feeling a strange sense of authority. Sansa looked timidly around as she gripped to the sleeves of her shirt. Daenerys stopped her then.  
"You do feel such desires for Baelish, do you not?" She asked, wondering if she was teaching Sansa useless knowledge. Sansa blushed deeply, speaking of such things in public.  
"Yes, your Highness. I do." Sansa whispered as quietly as she could. Daenerys smiled, glad that there was a side of Sansa that she could now see.  
"I have a task for you. We shall walk past Lord Baelish in his quarters and you shall look at him in the way you just saw that woman do." Daenerys plotted gleefully.  
"Your Highness, I do not know if that would be right." Sansa became flustered. However, when Daenerys hooked her arm through her's, she felt more relaxed.  
"No no, it is quite normal for a man and a woman to play such games when they are in such an arrangement." And with that, they set off, to find Lord Baelish.

Petyr had sat outside that day, after tea with Sansa that morning. He answered letters from the vale and from other ends of the earth. The world had become very boring, he thought to himself as he rolled his eyes at yet another marriage proposal for the Queen. However, the safety of the people was more important than his own amusement, he had to remind himself. Once he had answered all of his letters, he sat, drinking wine and pondering upon his future and as if he had summoned her, Sansa rounded the corner, walking with the Queen. She was wearing a deep butterscotch gown, with her hair worn elegantly.  
"Lord Baelish, may we join you?" The Queen asked, much to Baelish's surprise.  
"Yes, of course, your Highness." He replied, rises and offering her the chair opposite him.  
"Sansa, you sit there. I shall sit beside Lord Baelish." Petyr smiled at Sansa, who thanked him for the chair.

Daenerys made sure that Sansa would be in Petyr's line of sight. They had practiced on the way over and Daenerys had to admit that there was a part of Sansa that she believed nobody had ever seen before. She smiled inwardly, knowing that she would take pleasure in seeing Lord Baelish squirm under Sansa's lustful gaze.

Sansa felt strangely confident. She had found a potential power within herself that she had never felt before. It helped that Petyr looked incredibly handsome that day, out in the sun. Wearing his finest clothes, with his moustache trimmed and his hair smoothed. She watched the light glimmer from his ring and prepared herself.

Petyr turned to the Queen as she began speaking about their new industry in dragon glass. She was very impressed with the interest that they had received and Petyr thanked her for the compliment. He could not resist, as the conversation lulled for a moment, looking over to Sansa. He had expected her to be looking down at her hands, or perhaps listening with intent. However, when he looked upon her, she was looking at him with an intent that he had not expected. Her eyes had darkened and pooled with an emotion he had never truly seen from her before. And unlike all of the times before, she did not look away as he stared at her. Daenerys' voice blurred into the background as Sansa gazed at Petyr from under her eyelashes. Petyr attempted to continue the conversation, but found himself quite in another mind. He found his eyes drifting to her lips and noticed the blush that appeared on Sansa's face as he did so.  
"Do you not think it is a fine idea, Lord Baelish?" Daenerys' voice was playful in this moment, knowing that she had caught Petyr off guard.  
"Y-yes, most definitely." He replied, slowly, not being able to divert his eyes from Sansa for more than a moment. When his eyes returned to her, his mouth watered and his jaw slackened as he saw her tongue dart from her mouth to moisten her lips, after which, her mouth remained open in the smallest of attitudes, and he felt himself crumble, useless to the world in this moment.

Daenerys knew exactly what she had done and she was very proud of herself indeed. She had given Sansa a power that she had never truly harnessed before. Petyr looked enraptured by her and the best thing for them to do now, was to leave him to contemplate what had just happened.  
"It is time for us to leave you, I am afraid, Lord Baelish. Come, Sansa." Daenerys summoned her.  
"Good day, Lord Baelish." Sansa drooled and it seemed as if there was a new sultry tone to her voice.  
"Good day." He replied, sitting back in his chair, taking a goblet of wine into his hand and watching her leave, turning back to look at him one last time, smiling in a way that made him think dangerous thoughts.

Sansa was released from the Queen after their encounter with Baelish and part of her wished she could go back to him, but she knew she should not. So, she retired to her quarters and rested, hoping that the lust filled images in her brain would dull through slumber.


	17. Silence

Sansa sat opposite Baelish at dinner and it was now he staring at her. His mind had been set aflame by their interaction that afternoon and he saw a side of Sansa now that he had never seen before. However, without the encouragement of the Queen, Sansa reverted back to her usual self, stealing glances at Petyr every now and then, only to look away once she had his attention. The way he looked at her that evening stirred something within her. His eyes were dark and intense and his hands were tensed around his goblet. However, Sansa's mind was not so far into the gutter. All that she could think of was Petyr holding her and comforting her. The departure of her sister was still fresh in her mind and she worried about her brother every day.

They walked together after dinner, towards Sansa's room. Petyr brushed his fingertips against the back of her hand, before catching her fingers in his. He could sense that she wanted something. However, what that thing was, he was not quite sure. Once they arrived at her room, Petyr gently pressed her up against the stone wall beside her door and took her chin in his hand, until she was looking up at him, wide eyes wild with an emotion he could not detect.  
"You have no idea what those eyes do to me, Sansa." He whispered to her, watching the blood rush into her cheeks. However, he did not expect the tears that began to well in those eyes.  
"Sansa, my dear. What is the matter?" He asked. She shook her head silently, attempting to hold back the tears. He gripped her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye.  
"Sansa, tell me what is wrong." He demanded. Sansa sighed and looked down at her feet.  
"I am alone." She managed to sniffle. Petyr understood then. Night was a difficult time when one was alone. No doubt Sansa dwelled on the departure of her Sister and the situation with her Brother. He took her hand and began leading her silently.

Sansa became very aware of their whereabouts when they arrived at Petyr's quarters. Sansa wondered if it was moral to be alone with him in such a place, but his skin was warm and his company calmed her. His room smelt of peppermint and vanilla and was cooler than Sansa had expected, despite the fire that raged in the fireplace. Petyr ignored her for a short while, unbuttoning his tunic and laying it upon the back of his chair. Sansa gasped when she saw that his torso was naked under the garment. His back was toned and Sansa could see the muscles ripple underneath the skin, making her feel hot, as if she were running a temperature. When he turned to face her, Sansa could not help staring at the scar that she had heard about. It was not as ugly as people had said. It was pink and slightly puffy, and it ran from his chest down to his naval. But it did not make him unnatractive. If anything, Sansa thought the scar was rather heroic and handsome looking. She outreached a hand; however, her fingers were caught by Petyr's hand. He pulled her close, both of her hands in his now and he placed them down by her sides as he circled her like a hawk with his prey. He stopped behind her and ran a hand across her fully clothed stomach, sending shivers down her spine.  
"Please, Sansa. Let me help you." He begged and all she could think to do was nod and surrender herself.

Petyr knew that he could take advantage if he pleased. But it was not in his nature to exploit his love. He wanted to support her and nurture her in this lonely time. He heard her breath become ragged as he began to unlace her dress. He placed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck, to ensure that she knew that he would not hurt or injure her. Once the jade garment hit the floor, Sansa was relieved of her corset, to which she was very grateful. Petyr left her in her underclothes, having to fight every instinct and urge in his body to rip off the gossamer fabric.

Sansa felt his fingertips run across her thighs. Part of her wished that he had removed her underclothes, but she knew that this would not be proper. She remembered what Daenerys had said, Petyr did not want a whore and Sansa had no intention to play one. He relished in touching her. Out in the gardens, and at dinner, he could never touch her in the way he would like. Now, he could caress every inch of her body. He started at her temples and ran his fingers across her cheeks, then smoothed his hands over her shoulders, ghosting his palms over the swell of her breast, always checking for any hitch or catch in her breath. His fingers explored her waist, pulling her close to him, feeling her soft behind press against his britches. He wished in this moment that they were married, that he could take her. But this was for her, for her enjoyment and pleasure. And Sansa did enjoy, her head fell back against his naked shoulder and her mouth fell agape. She could feel the hardness through Petyr's clothing and felt complimented by the gesture. Just as his fingers descended to where she now knew she needed to be touched, he stopped.

Sansa's eyes flew open as Petyr's body left her, his warmth left her. He chuckled, removing his boots. Sansa stood in the middle of the room, kicking off her shoes also. She was glad after a few moments, that he had stopped, fearing that she might have lost herself entirely if he had continued. She made the conscious decision to stay with him that night, climbing into the bed and pulling the blanket she made over herself. A smile graced her face as she felt his weight dip the bed. No words were said, and the moment was almost painfully quiet. But Sansa enjoyed the lack of speech. She was always picking her words so carefully and it felt so liberating to be able to communicate without speech. He pressed his body against hers and she felt as if they were two halves of the same being, fitting together perfectly. He held her all night, not sleeping a minute. He laid and listened to her breath, slow and steady and decided that she would never be alone again.


	18. Guilt

Sansa dreamt of Ramsey. Of his predatory gaze and his groping hands. Petyr could feel her sweating, could hear her whimpers of pain and held her tighter. He was unsure as to what she was dreaming, but it worried him that she was in such distress.

Sansa awoke with the sun and took a moment to recognise her surroundings. She could not believe that she had spent the night in Lord Baelish's room. Doing such a thing in Winterfell was one thing, but staying with a man whom you are not married to in King's Landing was an entirely different business. Although she had risen from her dream, Ramsey still plagued her mind and Sansa knew that at some point, Petyr would wish to speak about it. She felt embarrassed speaking about such things. She had used her assault against him before, but speaking about it when she was the one in pain seemed a far more daunting task.

She dressed quickly in the gown that she had worn the night before. She hoped that nobody would see her on her trip back to her quarters and she was grateful that Petyr did not bother her as she left. She wanted to keep this moment silent, as if speaking would push this situation into reality.

She rushed quickly, shuffling along the tiled floor. When she reached her room, Sansa shut the door and sighed in a moment of pure relief. She managed to arrive only moments before Gretchen knocked at the door.

Petyr was unsure as what to do. He wanted to know Sansa's pain and he wanted to help her heal. However, he was quite unknowing as how to go about it. He did not want to scare her, or push her too quickly. But he knew if he said nothing at all that this would be the worst mistake.

Tyrion wondered why Lord Baelish requested to speak with him after breakfast, but he allowed it as Baelish was one of the more interesting characters in King's Landing and he found himself rather bored.  
"You have been married to Sansa." He began and Tyrion looked up from his goblet of wine in shock.  
"Here I am thinking that you wished to speak of the finances of the seven kingdoms. But, yes, I was married to Sansa for a short while, but only in name." He added, not wanting Baelish to believe that there was any physical history between them. Petyr did not know whether to trust Tyrion or mask his words. He was the hand of the Queen, but that had never meant too much where trust was concerned.  
"And I am to believe that you shall be also." Tyrion added, wanting for Baelish to speak openly, if only for Sansa's sake.  
"She has grown to be a fine woman. But her life has not been the easiest and she is hurting." Petyr admitted. Tyrion understood Baelish's issue.  
"And you want to help her without hurting her further." Tyrion finished Petyr's thought.  
"You must ask her. If I know anything about women, which I am not sure that I do, it is that they are far more likely to speak about the topic you wish if you bring it up, instead of waiting for her to speak of it herself." Tyrion spoke wisely. Baelish nodded, feeling that Tyrion's advice was sound.

Daenerys found herself in a troubling situation. Two men who claimed to love her were now living in the red keep and the chances of running into them were very high. She had little problem with Jorah, she would simply place him in some kind of trading position. But Daario Naharis was a far trickier situation. She felt something for him, whether that was love or lust at the moment she was not quite sure. He had no land, no money, nothing that would make him a possible suitor, yet she still laid awake at night and thought about the nights that they had spent together. When she had seen him last, she was sure that she loved him, but upon contemplation, she was not unconvinced that she was not simply lonely. So, she called for him, to discuss what his plans were.

With Daario sat before her, Daenerys was less confused. He was very handsome and powerful, but he did not have that firey passion behind his eyes that she had always seen in Drogo. She asked him what his intentions were in King's Landing.  
"I am here to be of service to you, my Queen." He replied and Daenerys did not find him as appealing as she once had.  
"And what service would that be?" She asked, wondering if he was planning on contributing anything to her country.  
"I am here to love you." He blushed, but held her eye contact.  
"I am sorry, but that shall not be necessary." She replied, also retaining the eye contact.  
"You don't know what you are saying." He insisted.  
"I am the Queen and I know exactly what I am saying." She stood now, with anger in her voice.  
"I placed you in command of Dragon's Bay out of respect for you. You have left your position and any respect I had for you has gone. You may return to your post in Dragon's Bay, but you are not needed here." She insisted, her eyes stern and her voice sterner still. He understood now, Daario had not been loved by the Queen, not as he had thought. And in the light of this embarrassment, he fled, leaving Daenerys, Jorah and King's Landing without a single word. Daenerys did not feel any regret in this moment. A strange grief for the Khal Drogo crept into her heart. Daenerys was a fine ruler. However, in affairs of the heart, she found herself totally useless.

Sansa enjoyed King's Landing most at dusk, when the sun was gone and the pale pink sky dwindled, threatening to plunge her into darkness. She had avoided Baelish, out of embarrassment. She had acted improperly and she felt ashamed. However, sat in the garden, reading her book of folklore and tales, Sansa had nowhere to run.

Petyr saw her, reading her book in the garden. She looked so angelic, so serene that he felt almost guilty for disturbing her. But, she had been avoiding him and he wished to get to the bottom of it.

Sansa watched as Petyr sat opposite her.  
"Lord Baelish, what a surprise to see you out in the garden." She closed her book, placing it on her lap, staring at its cover.  
"Sansa?" She looked up at him now and his expression was a mixture of pity and confusion.  
"Please, tell me what is bothering you." He begged, his eyes pleading to her. She took a deep breath and placed her fingers to her forehead, allowing her eyes to fall shut.  
"I am mortified, my Lord, at my conduct as of recent." She stated, feeling her voice fall stale. Petyr knew that she was choosing her words carefully, but pressed on.  
"What would give you reason to be mortified?" He asked and heard Sansa sigh. She then looked him dead in the eye and stated:  
"I laid with you, like a common whore." These words leaving her mouth left Petyr in a state of pure shock. He took a few moments to recover, then thought about what she had said.  
"Have you ever been to a whore house, Lady Sansa?" He asked, amused by the thought og what Sansa thought happened between the men and women there.  
"No." Her mouth pouted and bit down on his bottom lip at the sight of a pouting Sansa Stark.  
"I see." He replied and Sansa looked up at him with wide, slightly offended eyes.  
"Why would you think that you are like such a woman?" He asked, in all seriousness.  
"I laid in your bed, is that not what whores do?" She asked, in a partially rhetorical question.  
"No, not exactly." Petyr worked hard to stifle his chuckle. Sansa looked as if she were about to weep from the humiliation she was experiencing.  
"Is this about Bolton?" Petyr asked, and when he received no reply, he continued.  
"Anything that he did to you did not make you less of a woman, or more of a whore. The only thing it did was make him less of a man." Petyr assured Sansa. When she would not look up at him, he reached his hand out to her.  
"Please, my love. I need to know that you understand that." He kept the eye contact once it was established and Sansa nodded, feeling she might cry were she to open her mouth. When he rose, she placed her book onto the table and wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. He held her tightly, hoping dearly that what he had said had been communicated to her in some way.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! I hope that you are enjoying this fic. I would like to know who you guys would like to see Daenerys with? Or whether you would like for her to not have a romantic plot at all. I would really like to know how you feel about this, because this fic is for you after all! Many thanks, Paige x


	19. Money Matters

WARNING - this chapter contains sexual content not suitable for readers sensitive to explicit material

Sir Jorah made his way to meet the Queen. Daario had disappeared without a sound and he wondered if Daenerys knew. He would so hate to have to be the one to relay the information to her. She was sat away from him when he entered her quarters. She did not stand and she did not address him in any way. He sat beside her and waited for her to address him.  
"He is gone, isn't he?" She asked, not taking her eyes away from the view of King's Landing.  
"Yes, your Highness. He left yesterday." Jorah informed her. Daenerys nodded her head, her posture poised.  
"I see. I spoke with him yesterday. I told him that I could not have him in King's Landing if he was going to indulge in the idea of being my lover." Jorah nodded, knowing that she had made the right choice.  
"If he could not love you without love in return, then I do not think that this is genuine love." Jorah stated, knowing that he could love the Khaleesi, with the knowledge that she would probably never reciprocate.  
"I know that you are right. I feel like a fool, indulging him for so long." She shook her head and Jorah was unsure how to reply.  
"I miss Drogo, my Khal. The times when things had been easier." Daenerys sighed, remembering back to her first marriage.  
"He was a great man." Jorah agreed.  
"This is all he had ever wanted for me, all that we had strived for. He married a child and made me a woman. He is the reason I have my dragons." She paused and turned to Jorah now.  
"I, I just feel as if I have let him down, as if I am not the Queen he wanted me to be." Jorah stopped her now, shaking his head.  
"He loved you more than I have ever seen a Dothraki man love a woman. He is so proud of you, Khaleesi. You had nothing, only the small Khalasar that stayed with you. And now look at you, Queen of Westeros, leader of the Westerosi people." His speech rang true and passionate. Daenerys took his scarred hand and looked up at him.  
"I do not think I shall love again, but I care for you, Sir Jorah and Drogo cared for you. Would you be my companion? Your company comforts me in a way that I can not tell you. I daresay we shall never marry and I will never bare your children, but you would be my closest friend." Daenerys asked, hoping that Jorah would settle for such a deal.  
"Of course, Khaleesi, it would be my pleasure." He felt his heart strain as he agreed to never be loved in the way he wished. But it was something, a chance to be with the person he loved, if only as a friend.

Sansa was curious of the new man in the court. He was not seen all so often and when he was, he kept to himself.  
"Who is he?" Sansa asked Varys as they walked in the garden.  
"Ah, you are asking about Sir Jorah Mormont. He is the Queen closest companion. That is why we do not see him very often, as he is with the Queen." Varys informed her.  
"I see. I did not know that the Queen had such consorts." Sansa mused aloud.  
"Oh, I do not think that he is that kind of consort, my dear. He is merely her friend." Sansa nodded, understanding completely.  
"I hear that Lady Olenna Tyrell is to come to us soon." Varys changed the subject of conversation.  
"I can not imagine what kind of pain she has had to suffer." Sansa thought reverently.  
"I dare say that she turns that pain into vengeful rage and that has helped her." Sansa thought of Margaery and Loras and their terrible deaths.  
"Please, do not dwell on such things, it is done, there is no use thinking back into the past." Varys begged her and Sansa nodded, smiling up at him.  
"So, tell me. How are you fairing in King's Landing? You do not long for the North, I hope." He asked, sitting down upon a bench in the gardens.  
"No, I do not miss the North so much. It was far colder and harsher without my family there. I enjoy the company and the climate of King's Landing and I feel as if my life is richer in the capitol." Sansa smiled, but Varys could see that there was a sadness behind her eyes. He wondered how to draw it out and confront it. However, it seemed it did that itself. She watched as Petyr and Tyrion walked together. She wished she could be open about their arrangement, be able to show him affection. Varys noticed this and smiled down at Sansa.  
"If it helps, I know and I think that you have made the right decision." Varys whispered down to her and it comforted Sansa that her secret was not hers alone to keep, and also that someone had validated her choice.

Sansa sat in the garden after Varys left for an engagement. She was bored. She looked out at the flowers and wondered how many times she could gaze at their splendor, or smell their delicious scent. She wondered if she should begin reading, or perhaps study history, or take to songwriting. But, she did not have an interest, nor a passion for these things. She wished that she could sit and sew needlepoint and design dresses. It was then that the question dawned on her: what is stopping me? Her abilities were as good, if not better than they had been when she was a child and she was sure that many fine ladies would pay for her dresses, if not the Queen herself. Her only obstacle was her finances, or lack thereof. Her house was not as rich as it once had been, and Sansa understood that John needed all of the earnings to fund his army. Perhaps the Queen would help fund her. She was unsure who to speak to, but she thought the Hand of the Queen might not be a bad place to start.

Tyrion was very glad to speak with Sansa after dinner. He found her so agreeable that his time with her was a distraction from the political world.  
"I wish to make fine dresses, for the women of Westeros." Sansa declared as they walked together.  
"I think that is a wonderful idea. The dress you made for the Queen is quite wonderful." Tyrion agreed to her plan.  
"There is an issue." She stated and he stopped, looking up at her with questioning eyes.  
"A finance issue." She whispered and Tyrion smiled, understanding completely.  
"Say no more. I shall raise the issue in our small council meeting tomorrow. I am sure that the crown has more than enough to start your new venture." And with that, they parted ways. Tyrion wondered why, it being a finance issue, that Sansa did not go to Baelish.

The next morning, Petyr sat in the small council meeting, feeling rather proud of himself. His personal income was very fine indeed and the debt of the crown was shrinking by the day, it being smaller than it had been in his lifetime.  
"I would like to request a budget for Lady Sansa Stark." Tyrion stood and announced. Petyr was unsure if he had heard correctly. However, Tyrion continued before he could ask for clarification.  
"She would like to begin a recreation of dress making, for the ladies of the court, when we have them." Tyrion explained and Petyr felt his brows furrow. Why would she have not spoken to him about such a matter? He could have privately funded her recreation. However, for the moment, it was all business.  
"She may have a small budget, to make a dress or two, and we shall see who shall buy them and at what price." Petyr wrote down the information in his book, before slouching back into his chair.

Sansa was delighted when Tyrion had told her that Baelish had allowed her the money.  
"Why did you not ask him yourself?" Tyrion asked, wondering why she used him as a kind of middleman.  
"I do not want him to think that I am seeking his fortune or that of the Queen. I am not, after all." She explained herself and Tyrion understood very well. He respected her for wanting to keep her intentions with Petyr pure. However, he was unsure if Baelish quite saw it that way.

Petyr watched as Sansa, accompanied by Gretchen, wondered off to the markets. She seemed positively gleeful. Petyr felt as if she had laughed at him, as if he were not a man who could provide for his bride to be. The brothel business was always in profit, far in profit. Petyr could look after Sansa in a way that he doubted she could imagine of him. He could buy her the finest silks from the furthest lands. He could shower her in pearls and emeralds, let alone pay for the fabric for a dress or two. He felt she did not respect him, that she did not view him as a man and this enraged him.

Sansa bought fine lilac fabric, for a dress for the Queen. She was so excited that she could design and sew and create once again. She knew the proportions of the Queen well and she knew that she could make her a fine dress, one like the fine gowns Lady Margaery would wear, Sansa could never wear the style, but she knew that it would suit the Queen well.

As she began cutting her panels, the door swung open. Sansa's head darted up, to see Petyr stood at the door, perfectly composed.  
"Lord Baelish, what a surprise." She commented. He did not reply as he entered her room. He circled her as she knelt on the floor in a way that she found slightly menacing. She decided to quit her work for the time being and pay him her full attention.  
"How are you today?" She asked, as he continued to circle her.  
"I am not doing so well. I see you have begun your project." His circling worked like cement, making Sansa unable to move.  
"Yes, my Lord. You are very generous for allowing me my funding." Sansa replied, feeling slightly nervous now.  
"You are correct that it was I who gave you the funding. But it was not I who you asked." He paused behind her. She could feel his stare on the nape of her neck.  
"Did you not think I could give you the money, Sansa? Do you not think that I have the finances to take care of you?" His voice hissed as he stood painfully close behind her.  
"Perhaps you do not think I am a real man. Perhaps I am just Little Finger to you." He hissed. Sansa was so in shock that she could not reply and could not call after him as he stormed away from her. He had misunderstood completely. But so had she. It seemed, he wanted her to spend his money. She did not understand this. But, she did not want him to be angry or upset. So, she ventured once again into the town, this time without Gretchen.

Sansa did think that Petyr was a man. But, she had to admit that she wished she could see the angry, possessive side of him more. So, she decided to do some research and make him pay for something she had wanted to make for a long time.

The whores at Petyr's brothels were not used to seeing fine noblewomen. So, when they saw the ginger girl that they had seen so many times walk with a bodyguard enter the establishment without any supervision, everyone paid half an ear to hear what her business was.

Sansa was terrified. She had never been in such as establishment before and the noises and smells were so foreign to her. The ladies stared at her questioningly, as she stood in the threshold.  
"Hello, I would like a private audience with one of your ladies." Sansa stated, understanding the strange nature of her request. The lady looked down at Sansa with strange probing eyes, before assigning a girl for her. Sansa walked through, keeping her head down, in order not to be seen by the clientele. As the girl began to remove her clothing, Sansa placed a hand over her eyes.  
"I do not wish to do what most of your clients wish to do. I wish to see your small clothes." Sansa lowered her hand as the girl stood in shock. The girl nodded her head, before walking over to a box and placing items on the bed. Sansa looked at the string like pieces and the chains that she shivered at the thought of on her skin. Then, the girl placed down a sheer, short dress and Sansa stopped her.  
"This one, could you wear it for me?" She asked and the girl changed, laughing as Sansa turned away. When she turned back, she placed a hand over her mouth. It was soft and light, made of a seemingly soft fabric and it flowed over the woman's curves, brushing against the tops of her thighs. Sansa knew what she had to do.  
"What colour, for me?" She asked and worked to keep her breath slow and constant as the girl approached her.  
"Black, for your ivory skin." She traced her fingers across Sansa's cheek.  
"And hair long and loose." She caught a curl in her fingers. Sansa was thankful for the advice, but was glad when the girl finally let go of her.  
"Thank you. Here, for your trouble." Sansa placed three coins in the girl's hand and she smiled widely in response. She had given Sansa great advice. Petyr wanted to be a man, then Sansa would let him be a man.

The merchant was confused to see her again.  
"I forgot some things." She informed him, smiling.  
"Should I charge it to the Queen once again, my Lady?" He asked and Sansa shook her head.  
"No, charge it to the personal account of Lord Petyr Baelish." He wanted to play for her dresses, then he could pay.  
"Very good, my Lady."

Sansa worked tirelessly that afternoon, making the new underclothes, she pictured the girl in the brothel and how confident she had been. Sansa made her small clothes slightly longer than the girls, but, when she looked in the looking glass, she felt the same shock and confidence she was sure the girl felt. She let her hair fall around her shoulders, completing the look and stared at herself for a long while. She felt a power she had never felt before, a sexual energy surged through her and she felt every hair on her body stand on edge. After a while, she turned away from the looking glass, dressed her hair and pulled on her gown.

Sansa knew in order for her plan to work, that she would have to eat her meal early, so that she could go and undress in Petyr's quarters whilst he dined with the others. She sat alone and pondered in silence what she had unlocked in Petyr. It was definitely more than just the dresses that he was angry about. There were deep rooted issues, ones that she had not seen him become angry over before. She knew how important it was for a man to feel appreciated, and she understood that she might not have been appreciating Petyr as much as she should. Underneath all of his good manners, Petyr was a dominant male and Sansa craved to see that side of him. It had shown itself earlier in the day, but she wanted to see it in all of its gritty, aggressive glory.

Petyr noticed Sansa's absence at dinner. He had not meant to hurt her feelings and he knew now that he should not have gone to her when he was in such a rage. He was sure that he had frightened her into isolation. He ate quickly, before walking slowly back to his quarters. He wondered if he should go to her, or perhaps give her her space. He knew it was not her fault and that her experience with Ramsey probably made her fear that part of men. He wished that he could go back and tell himself to calm down before talking to her.

Sansa knew that she did not have much time. She stripped down to her new smallclothes and let her hair down. She sat in his large leather chair, grateful for the heat of the fire and waited, wondering now if this was all one terrible mistake. However, before she could redress and return to her quarters, the door creaked open and Petyr was there.

When she stood, it was out of shock. Petyr also was paralysed by the situation. She stood, eyes wide, hair loose, in an outfit he would have never dreamt of seeing her in. But, she did not look like a whore, he decided as he gazed upon her, his mouth watering. But, before he let his mind become overrun with lust, there were a few questions he had to ask.  
"Sansa," But, it seemed, when he opened his mouth, that he could not find a way to phrase his sentence. But Sansa understood perfectly well.  
"I felt very guilty earlier. You were right, I should have come to you. But I did not want you to think I was greedy. I was wrong and I wanted to redeem myself after making you so angry." Her voice was low, embarrassed by the situation. Petyr smiled, he understood now. No doubt, her Father had taught her that a woman who spent her husband's fortunes was of ill repute. However, this still did not explain where she found such a garment, one that a Lady would never be seen in.  
"I visited one of your establishments and had one of the girls try on her outfits, until I found one I wanted to make." She blushed a deep shade of scarlet, admitting that she had visited a brothel. However, the thought of her being there, being in his environment, excited him immensely.

He approached her slowly, not wanting to scare her after his previous behaviour.  
"I told the merchant to bill you for the fabric. I hope you don't mind." She whispered and he smiled down at her, sin in his eyes.  
"I do not think that you are little finger, I never could see you in such a way." She whispered, looking down at her bare feet. Petyr placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her head to meet his gaze. Sansa quivered under his intense gaze. She knew then, in that moment, that she would submit to anything that he wanted, anything that he asked she would do. It was a dangerous position to be in, one that she could only experience with him.

Petyr wondered what he should do with his fragile little doll. He knew, of course, that she was not as fragile as she seemed. But looking up at him now, with eyes as large as saucers, lips parted in expectation, he knew that he had the upper hand. But, he did not want to abuse this power, she had entrusted him, shown him the most intimate parts of herself, hoping to not be hurt. And he not hurt her, he would use this power that she had given him to support and love her. He encircled her waist and pulled her close, claiming one side of her throat with his hand and the other with his mouth, he kissed her tenderly.  
"You are mine, Sansa Stark." He whispered and there was a moment of liberation for Sansa, as if for a time, she could release the responsibility she felt and simply let him take over.

They remained this way, Petyr whispering in her ear between open mouth kisses to her neck, before Sansa became gold. Petyr noticed the prickling of her skin and slight shiver down her spine. So, he released her, taking her hand and leading her to the bed.  
"Warm yourself under the covers, my love." He insisted. Sansa wriggled under the covers, glad for the sudden warmth. He watched her as he undressed, wanting to see her reaction. Her eyes widened when they fell upon his scar once more, he expected this. However, what he did not expect was for her gaze to travel south, towards a part of himself that was very improper for a woman to be gazing at. Her gaze tempted him to remove his breeches, but he knew, if he were to do that, that he would not be able to contain himself. So, for the time being, they remained on.

Sansa wondered why he did not disrobe completely, but did not dwell on the fact for too long. He approached the bed, eyes dark and filled with lust. The feel of his body hovering above hers, almost touching, was unlike anything Sansa had experienced. His kisses were light at first, peppering her face, until he reached her lips. Then, his kisses became deeper and longer. He savoured her like a man's first cup of wine after a long journey. His hands stroked her, as opposed to groping her. She was so soft that Petyr felt his mouth water. The fabric of her smallclothes was so soft, it felt like water in his hands. His fingers ghosted over the swells of her breasts and he heard a faint moan leave her mouth.  
"Sansa," He began, but felt himself drawn in for another kiss.  
"Please." She whispered against his wanton lips. He knew he would not take her before their wedding night, but he would ensure that he showed Sansa a part of what real love making was like.

Sansa felt her senses overload. She felt as if she was feeling everything at once and yet she wanted more. As Petyr's hands travelled towards the part of Sansa that had never been touched lovingly by a man before, her breath hitched and he paused. She understood, after her past, he would be cautious with her and she was glad of this and she knew that she might have to spur him on a little.  
"Please." She whispered into the nape of his neck before placing an open mouthed kiss there. It was Petyr now that let out a kind of moan, before allowing his fingers to continue their journey. She felt his fingers brush against her curls and she then heard him moan when he found her centre. She was sweeter and softer than any woman he had seen or touched before. Feeling how aroused he had made her aroused Petyr further and he wondered whether Sansa could feel his manhood pressed against her thigh, her blush suggested that she did.

He did not move too quickly, not wanting to shock her. His fingers worked slowly, stroking her in motions that made her quiver under his touch. When he found her nub, Sansa gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. After a few moments though, she let the hand fall from her mouth and wrap around Petyr's neck. She was so sensitive, purring and moaning lightly as he continued to touch her. In this moment, he realised how much he loved her. So many people had hurt her in the past, hurt her with this thing that was supposed to be beautiful and the fact that she was trusting him, after everything that she had endured, made the very centre of himself feel warm.

Sansa could feel something she had never felt before, something that she had heard maids and ladies of the court whisper about, but never experienced herself. She had tried, fumbling around by herself. But it had never quite felt like this. Her breath quickened, as she clung onto Petyr, panting and purring into his neck. She could feel his manhood against her and blushed at the thought of the situation. As she wound and wound, like a spring, she wondered what would happen when the tension was released. And just like that it happened, her body became stiff, sa she clung to Petyr and she cried softly into Petyr's neck. She now understood what all of the fuss was about and why people would risk marriages, and even their lives for such a thing. She felt as if she had been freed from the constraints of royal life, as if she had been granted a moment of pure bliss and once it was over, she slumped into Petyr's embrace, only now hearing his soft whispers.

Petyr was overcome with joy, love and arousal. He was so proud of Sansa, that she had allowed herself the freedom to understand what pleasure was and he was so grateful that he was the first to show her that wonderful side of life. He began to reposition Sansa, so that he could hold her and she could sleep, but her hand came to his chest, stopping him in his tracks.  
"Sansa?" He asked, as she laid him down on his back and began unlacing his breeches.  
"Sansa, you don't have to-"  
"I want you." She insisted and he could not argue with the look in her eye. So, he removed what clothing he had left on and now felt like the vulnerable one.

Sansa was sure she looked very much like a silly girl as she stared at his manhood, eyes wide. She had never seen one so close, never having seen Ramsey's in such detail. It seemed larger than she imagined, and she wondered if all men were the same size and presumed that they were probably not. Petyr sat in disbelief and delight, watching her inspect him in such detail. Sansa had heard women speak of how to pleasure a man and remembered one of the women saying:  
"If you run your thumbs over the veins, he will enjoy it." So, now faced with protruding veins, Sansa encircled Petyr's manhood in her hands and ran her thumbs along the veins gently. She wondered if she was still being too rough when Petyr hissed and bared his teeth. However, she continued when she heard a growl leave his chest. Once the moans came and she saw Petyr, laid back, with his eyes closed, lost in pleasure, Sansa gained the courage to attempt something that every woman said was a simple way to please a man.

Petyr's eyes flew open when he felt Sansa's tongue come into contact with his skin. Her tongue was so warm and wet that he thought he might explode as it did its laps over his manhood.  
"Oh, Sansa." He encouraged her, placing a firm hand on her backside. Sansa smiled internally, glad that she was pleasing him well. When she saw the clear liquid ooze from the tip, she cautiously licked at it, wondering what it was. When Petyr's hips bucked and he shuddered, she decided that this was something he liked, so she continued to pass her tongue over the small opening, causing him to shudder. She thought doing such a thing might make her feel like a whore, as she had before, but she felt rather liberated, pleasuring the man she loved. She was not being paid, they were not strangers and she realised that that made all the difference.

Petyr feared that he could not hold himself much longer, and he feared that Sansa would not be prepared for what was going to follow. However, when her lips closed down over the tip of his manhood, he could not help it, they were so soft and so wet and her tongue was so skilled for being so inexperienced. He bucked a few times, wailing out and gripping at the skin of her backside. Sansa had to admit that she was not wholly prepared for what had happened, but she took it in her stride and swallowed his seed and as she had been told to in the past. She was surprised that she had been so successful and she was proud of herself for opening herself in such a way. She pressed herself against Petyr, who now brought the covers over them both and he held her and although no words were spoken, she knew that all was forgiven and that he loved her.


	20. Celebrations

Daenerys had never been a true Queen before, and she had never had the responsibilities of being a Monarch. This was the first time in her reign that she had exercised her power for a large social gathering. She had invited subjects from all corners of the kingdom to celebrate the prosperous nature of the Kingdom due to the success of the Dragon Glass venture. They flooded through the borders of King's Landing, into the Red Keep, to celebrate the first time of prosper that the Seven Kingdoms had experienced for a long while.

The halls of the Red Keep now were filled with ladies and lords, all in their finery and luxury. Sansa had been anxious of their arrival. There were still wounds that had been created through the death of the Lannisters and many still mourned the victims of the bombing. However, when they began to arrive, many seemed jubilant and merry at the fact that the crown was finally stable again.

The celebrations had not been formally dedicated to Petyr, but Daenerys had said as much when they had spoken about the proceedings. They had almost completely cancelled their debt with the sales of dragon glass being so affluent. Petyr had never seen the crown so out of debt and he knew that it was because of him.

The situation between Petyr and Sansa had become more difficult now. When he saw her, Petyr longed to touch her, to be near her, to kiss her. But, he knew, that until the arrangement was announced that he had no choice but to keep his distance and continue biting the inside of his cheek.

With the increase of people in the Red Keep, Brienne had a harder task of protecting the Queen. However her life had been made harder by the sudden call back to Winterfell that Tormund had received.  
"I must go, Jon Snow needs me, my people need me." His gruff voice whined to her, his hand firmly placed on her arm.  
"I know. I know that you must do your duty for Jon Snow." Her voice shook, she was weak now. She never allowed her weakness to show, but she allowed it now as one tear drop fell onto her cheek. She had allowed herself to love a man and it had fired back at her most tremendously.  
"Don't cry now. I am sure I shall be back soon." He wiped the tear off of her cheek and held her face in his hand. Her eyes met his and a pained smile graced her face.  
"I don't want you to leave." She chuckled at herself for saying something so pathetically cliched.  
"I don't want to go. But I must." He pulled her into an embrace, pulled her close and kissed her as if it as the last time he was ever going to see her. No more was said. A last glance was shared and then he was gone. Once she saw his fiery hair disappear into the Red Keep, she sat on her bed and allowed herself to weep, as she had never done before.

Sansa had greeted people all day, alongside Varys. They whispered about the guests, in between their arrival and enjoyed each other's company. When Sansa saw Theon approaching the gates, her hands began to tingle with excitement. She had heard that his rehabilitation was going well and that he was more like himself than ever. He accepted her embrace when she flung herself into his arms.  
"I have missed you." She whispered against his neck and his arms tightened around her waist.  
"I have missed you too." He pulled her to arms distance and truly looked at her, finding her quiet healthy and even radiant.  
"We must speak later." Sansa insisted and Theon nodded before moving along.

Olenna had travelled from Dorne to be at the celebration. However, the long journey was not much trouble for her. She had no excitement left in her life, she thought she might as well be surrounded by excited people and enjoy their energy. She arrived a few days earlier than most of the guests and she was shocked to see Sansa Stark in King's Landing, thinking that she might have stayed in the North with her brother. However, after watching her for a few days, it became evident what was going on.

Sansa was nervous to see Olenna Tyrell again. So much had happened since they had last seen each other, and when they had last spoken, Margaery had been there to soften the tension. But now, without Margaery, Sansa was very worried about their appointment.

The table had been laid with fine Dornish wine and lemon cakes. Sansa smiled as she approached the table, flattered that Lady Tyrell would remember such a personal fact about Sansa.  
"Hello, Lady Stark. Please, sit." Her voice was stony yet caring. Sansa sat opposite Olenna and observed her for a short while. Her face had become sad and old looking, where she had once been vibrant and bright for her age.  
"I am sorry for your lo-"  
"Please stop, neither you nor I, dare I say Margaery nor Loras would like you speaking of my loss. We must speak of the future, do you not agree?" Olenna cut off Sansa abruptly. She remained silent in her response.  
"Do not fear me, child. You have no need to. I am simply interested in your relationship with Lord Baelish. Would you care to tell me a little about it?" She asked. She knew that she was putting Sansa into an uncomfortable position, but she was a sweet child and Olenna did not wish to see her hurt.  
"I do not know of what you speak, Lady Tyrell."  
"Do not lie to me, I have seen you, seen how he watches you. Now, tell me." Sansa shuddered under her gaze.  
"I-I cannot." She stuttered and Olenna understood now. She smiled and perched back in her seat, taking a sip of wine.  
"I see now. You are a good girl, Sansa, following your Queen's orders." She stated, complementing Sansa.  
"It is strange, Littlefinger seems to truly love you. I've never seen him love anyone apart from himself before. He is a powerful man and a valuable ally, but be careful that he does not engulf you in his world of mystery and sleaze." She advised Sansa, before leaving her without the opportunity to reply.

Sansa sat for a long time after. She wondered if it really was so obvious, her attachment to Petyr, or whether Olenna's skills of deduction were just as acute as she had always remembered them. It did not bother her so much if people knew that she was engaged to Lord Baelish. But, something else that Olenna had said had worried Sansa. She did not want to lose herself in the love that Petyr gave her. He had the ability to entrance and manipulate and she knew that he would never do that to her purposefully, but she could not guarantee he would not subconsciously, and that thought scared her stiff, forcing her to remain in her seat.


	21. The Announcement

He watched her when the Red Keep was filled. Sansa seemed such a different creature when she was in company. She was censured and polite, not that she was not polite when alone with him, but she stuck to the social conventions for which he knew she detested.

However much Petyr thought he knew about Sansa, or about how she felt around company, she always had the ability to defy him. The social routine that she was allowed to fall back into when surrounded by highborn men and women provided a kind of relief for Sansa. Being able to revert back into the extensive training she had had as a girl proved to be a kind of solace, a way of living without having to think.

Although she was calm within, many noticed the changes in the Stark girl. She did not have that light that use to prick her cheeks and she smiled far less often than she used to. She was well dressed and well behaved, but there was pain behind the image of the perfect young lady.

The conflict of what Petyr thought Sansa felt, to how she truly felt came to light when they sat together one afternoon in the garden. The air was colder than usual and Sansa wore her thicker dress, in preparation for the only kind of winter she knew King's Landing would receive.  
"Are you looking forward to them leaving?" He broke her train of thought by asking.  
"Who?" She asked, absentmindedly.  
"The visitors, the people who are in the Red Keep." He explained and what he thought would be a simple question became a topic of deep thought for Sansa.  
"I do not think so." She began, looking down at her hands. "When there are people around, I do not feel so lonely. You work all day and I am the only young lady here, apart from Brienne, who is also at work. Life can be very bleak when you have nobody to live with. These people, they remind me of what my life used to be, of the person that I used to be. I can stand and mindlessly talk to them for hours and it feels almost as if all of the terrible things that have happened did not." She sighed, knowing that the visitors would leave soon and that the weather would change and that she would be alone once more.

Petyr looked upon her saddened face and began to panic within. He thought he knew Sansa, her way of thinking, her responses to life. But he did not at all. She did not shy away from her past self, rather she took on her guise and used it to escape from the life that she was leading. He wished that he could help in some kind of way, that he could invite people all year round to be with her and keep her company, but he knew that it was not his place to do so. It pained him to know that she would feel lonely once they left and that his work meant that he could not stay with her. He placed his hand over hers.  
"I'm sorry." It was simple, concise and exactly what Sansa needed to hear.

Daenerys felt overwhelmed by the volume of people in her court.  
"I can not remember their names, or their banners or their families." She complained to Jorah.  
"It does not matter to them. You have saved the crown, they understand that you might not have time for such vapid learning." Jorah saw the back of her head nod, as she faced away from him, staring out of her window. She knew he was right and that the people did not expect all from her, but part of her wondered if that was a major part of being a Queen: knowing your subjects. She had saved the economy and released the city and country from the tyranny of Cersei Lannister, but was it enough? Was she worthy of the role? It was the first time that she had truly questioned this, but once the question had been embedded in her mind, it was almost impossible to dislodge it.

The feast that night was larger than any that had been held under the reborn Targaryen name. The food was larger and richer, the wine flowed freer and the conversation was more lively. Once again, Sansa and Petyr had been sat away from one another, for their engagment was not a known fact. However, Daenerys pondering earlier in the day had given her the motivation to make the announcement. That was a duty of a Monarch and she was going to fulfill her duty.

The room slowly fell silent as she rose. She stood for a few seconds, to gather her thoughts, before beginning.  
"I would like to thank you all for being here for this joyous celebration. It is a prosperous and productive time for Westeros. As Queen, I have many duties, and one that I have not yet fulfilled is that of the joining of houses." Now whispers began, nothing produced gossip like a marriage.  
"In the coming days, the houses of Baelish and Stark shall be joined together through the marriage of Lady Sansa Stark and Lord Petyr Baelish. Many blessings to them both." She knew her speech was not conventional but it was a job well done.

Sansa sat, wide eyed, mind blank. She could not believe that Daenerys had decided to announce the engagement without speaking with her. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as she felt the attention fall onto her. She had been engaged many times, married twice and the news of another engagement fell hard onto her shoulders.

Petyr for the first time, felt the weight of what was happening. Daenerys had made the announcement without speaking with him about it. Of course he was delighted, but he simply wished that he could have had a warning so that he was not caught off guard as he had been. As he looked around the room, he could read every emotion on every man's face: envy, disgust, judgment, and the occasional look of pride. It was only then that Petyr felt the reality of the situation, Sansa was far younger than he was and many of the people in the room knew the past feelings he had expressed for Catelyn Stark and he couldn't help the judgement he felt.

But then, he saw her. Sansa, sat with her hands folded in her lap, blushing deeper than than he had ever seen her before. And it was then that he realised that it didn't matter if every man and woman hissed and spat at him, because this marriage was not about them. Sansa had already been faced with the horror that was public marriage, but that was not what this was. They were embarrassed and flustered together, both as humiliated as the other.

Sansa waited until the final course of the feast to look over at him. She was so focused on what she felt and thought, that she had completely forgotten about Petyr and his feelings. She hoped that he was happy to have their engagement in the open, but she was sure that he was just as embarrassed as she was. She looked away from the lemon cakes that sat in front of her to peer down the table at him, and to her surprise, she found him looking directly back at her. It was then that the awkwardness and humiliation of the moment fell away. She loved him and she couldn't help but smile knowing now that she could openly sit with him, walk with him, touch his face and hold his hand if she liked and that smile was returned with the sweetest, softest grin that she had ever seen grace a man's face and in that moment, she knew that this would be both her first and last true marriage.

Author's Note: I am sorry that I have been inactive for the last few weeks. I have recently began University and I'm afraid the Uni life has taken up my time. I apologise for this and will now dedicate more time to uploading content. I hope you understand.


	22. The Fire

Life had changed for both Petyr and Sansa since their announcement. Sansa had become the young blushing bride, surrounded by the women of Westeros, preparing for her life of marriage. Petyr had mixed reactions from his peers. Many had congratulated him and sung praises of his young, beautiful bride to be. However, others had insisted that she was far too young to become his wife and that their was a perverse nature about all of it. These protestations did not bother him so much, as he knew what the truth was and they could not take that from him.

However, the intimacy that Sansa had hoped to gain through the announcement seemed to be a distant dream. There was not a moment that they spent alone without someone coming and whisking her away. She missed the times when she and Petyr could sit and talk, without prying eyes watching their every move. Petyr could focus his mind with his work, but he did so miss her when he laid alone at night, their nightly meetings had been put to an end, Sansa not being allowed to leave her room once she had retired. He would count the days until they were married and they would once again share a chamber.

Daenerys was glad to be surrounded by so many people of Westeros. She felt like a true leader when she was surrounded by others. She had decided, after much deliberation, to ask a select few to remain in the Red Keep permanently.  
"I suppose soon I must search for a husband." She sighed, sitting with Jorah in her chamber.  
"I am afraid that you might be right. You are an independent woman, but the nation will expect a marriage soon enough." Jorah had given up on the idea of becoming Daenerys' bride. He knew that she should marry someone young, with power and wealth and he simply did not fit the description. But, this new arrangement suited him well. He could still love her and spend his time with her, and he knew in some way, that she cared for him in return.  
"I do not enjoy the men of Westeros. Could I not take a foreign partner?" She asked and Jorah knew immediately of the men she spoke.  
"I am sure if you could find a Dothraki Khal who would stay with you here, that the people of Westeros would respect your choice." Daenerys laughed.  
"I am sure that they would not. But what choice would they have? As the Queen, I can choose whoever pleases me. Would you set Varys on the task?" She asked and Jorah stood, accepting the job.  
"Of course, my Queen." He bowed and left, going to find Varys.

Varys sat in his office, sifting through the reports he had received throughout the week. His work was interrupted when Jorah Mormont entered his office, standing silently for a few moments.  
"Sir Jorah, how can I help you?" He asked, his voiced riddled with sarcasm and annoyance. However, Jorah did not notice the unfriendly tone of his voice and proceeded to explain himself, whilst taking a seat.  
"I am here on behalf of the Queen, with a sensitive question to ask."  
"Well, Sir Jorah, you are safe in my confidence." Varys spoke through the motions, wanting this meeting to be over with.  
"The Queen has decided that it is time that she sought a partner." Jorah began.  
"I see." Varys nodded along, now more interested in the conversation.  
"However, the Queen has specific tastes that she believed that your skills would help her find."  
"Please explain yourself, Sir Jorah. I am a busy man." Varys' tone was riddled with annoyance now.  
"She wishes to find a dothraki man, a Khal." Without another word, Varys stood, ushering Jorah out of his office.  
"Of course, I shall set myself to work immediately. Good day." And with that, he was alone, with a new task that he was sure he could sink his teeth into.

For Brienne, King's Landing was not all it had been when they had first arrived. She was alone, without the company of Tormund and she couldn't help the loneliness settle. She threw herself into her work with the Queen's guard and Sansa in order to combat this feeling. She ensured that Sansa and Petyr were never together alone. She knew Sansa despised her for this, and part of her knew she was doing it out of spite, but she convinced herself that she was merely doing her duty.

Sansa had been asleep for many hours when the smell of smoke began to fill her chamber. Her lungs filled with smoke almost instantly and she found herself gasping for air that she simply could not find.

Petyr was awoken by Tyrion banging on his door.  
"What is it?" He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his mouth agape in yawn.  
"Dro- Drogon has set the Red Keep alight." He panted and puffed.  
"Sansa." He pushed past Tyrion, running down the halls of the Red Keep, towards her chamber. His legs moved fast, but not as fast as he wanted. His breath came short and quick, but he knew that he had to go for her.

Brienne saw him running towards Sansa's chambers, and part of her wanted to stop him and collect Sansa herself. But she was already supporting two Lords on her shoulders, so she simply hoped that he would not get there too late.

Sansa was unconscious when Petyr arrived. He battered down the door with a strength that he did not know he had. He panicked for a single moment, seeing her in such a way. However, he soon pulled her off of the bed, a dead weight, cradled her and began his exit.

The smoke had begun to affect him and his eyes began to falter. Petyr fought on, each foot hitting the floor harder than the last, and managed to get to the gardens, where he placed Sansa onto the ground, before collapsing himself.

The ladies immediately went to Lady Sansa's side. With some smelling salts and water, she was quickly brought around. When she saw Petyr, collapsed, she fought against the ladies restraints unsuccessfully and watched as Podrick poured a bucket of water of Baelish, summoning him back into consciousness.

Once they had been restored to health, Petyr took Sansa to his town home, as there was nowhere else to retreat to. He knew that he would have to deal with the damage and the loss of money in the morning. But, for now, he wanted to bathe and then rest, with her, away from prying eyes.


	23. Relocation

Sansa laid in the bath, her hair smelt of smoke and the heat of the fire still lingered on her skin. Her mind had not yet adjusted to the reality of what had happened.  
"Please relax. We shall fret about what has passed in the morning." Petyr whispered in her ear. They had never been so intimate before and Sansa made it her goal to relax as much as possible. She laid back against his chest and let her eyes fall shut. She could feel his heartbeat through her spine and his slow, deep breaths lulled her into a relaxation.

He helped her out of the bath and led Sansa to the bedroom. Her eyes were drooping shut and her limbs began to fail her. So Petyr supported her, until they could lay together.  
"I don't want us to be separated." She whispered into his chest.  
"I know they will come for me." She added. Petyr saw the glisten of a tear leave her eye.  
"I will not let them." He stated.  
"You know that they will come sooner or later, and take me away until we are wed." Petyr sighed, knowing this to be the truth.  
"I don't want a big wedding in front of every Lord and Lady in the seven Kingdoms. I've done it all before." She sighed, discouraged. Petyr remained silent and pulled her close. He would sort this for her, he would give Sansa what she wanted.

Daenerys had moved past the distress and the horror the next morning, as she sat at the head of the small council meeting.  
"I don't know what to say." She began.  
"My dragon has done great damage to the Red Keep and I do not know how to fix it." She admitted. There was no need to be coy and lie. Better to tell the truth and admit her faults.  
"Your honesty is admirable, your Majesty. I suggest we begin by getting the dragons out of King's Landing. Perhaps taking them to a place where they can have as many sheep as they please and free space to roam, outside of the city?" Varys began. Daenerys nodded, knowing that this would have to happen at one point or another.  
"Very well, but they must be taken care of by good men and women." She insisted.  
"I wouldn't have it any other way." Varys agreed.

Petyr now had his time to speak.  
"The Red Keep is ruined for the time being. We can not remain whilst the repairs are taking place. I suggest that we relocate to the Vale, until the restoration is complete."  
"I do not know if that is a good idea." Tyrion objected.  
"Your castle has been desecrated. I am the closest, with a home large enough for us all."  
"I agree with Lord Baelish. We should leave whilst the workers restore the Red Keep. I do not want anyone else getting hurt." Daenerys agreed, her voice definitive.

The visitors had packed away what things they could find and had left King's Landing as soon as they could. Sansa spent the day in Peytr's home, wishing she could leave, but knowing that she would be spotted and escorted somewhere else, away from Petyr.

The small council worked tirelessly to employ men to work on the castle.  
"It was a good thing you began the trade of dragonglass so early, your Majesty. Else we would have been in financial ruin with the costs of this fire." Petyr stated, sitting with the Queen, organising the work.  
"How soon can we travel to the Vale? All that we need is the small council, the Queen's Guard and the few guests." Daenerys was ready to leave the scene of destruction.  
"We can leave as early as tomorrow, if your hand can arrange the transport."  
"I shall get on that now." Tyrion huffed, sulking off. He so wished he could provide the Queen with a home, but it was true what Baelish had said, Casterly Rock had been ambushed when Cersei had been defeated. And although it was in fine shape for his cousin and the restoration was taking place, it was no place for a Queen.

With Tyrion on the preparations, the group were ready to leave by the net morning. Sansa had not been informed of the decision to move, until Petyr came home, in the middle of the night, exhausted.  
"Be prepared to travel in the morning." He murmured to her as he laid beside her.  
"Where?" She asked, wondering where they would go that could be an alternative to King's Landing.  
"The Vale. Now sleep, we have a long day tomorrow." Sansa felt a calm wash over her, knowing that she would be back at the Vale. It was a place that brought her a great sense of calm and peace. She would be glad to return to it.

The morning was chaos. However, Sansa saw none of it. She sat in the carriage, with her needlework and sewed away happily, waiting to leave.

Daenerys, however, was in the centre of the happenings. She had sent off the dragons first thing in the morning, sending them to a highland somewhere, a place that Varys recommended that she had never heard of. She was sure that they would be taken care of and that they would cause no more damage.

Once everything was set, the carriages began their trek to the Vale. Petyr was the last to climb into his carriage, with Sansa. And when he did so, he was relieved to hear the quiet of Sansa sewing on her own. He sat opposite her and watched her skillful hands push the needle through the material time and time again. The constant motion relaxed him. Sansa wondered if she should say anything, to break the silence. But when she saw how concentrated he seemed on her hands, she decided against it.

Daenerys watched the scenery go by as they rode to the Vale. She felt like a failure. She had managed to ruin one of the oldest, most beautiful buildings in Westeros. Not even Cersei had done that. No doubt there would be revolts against her now.  
"Stop panicking. We all make mistakes." Jorah assured her. She huffed and rolled her eyes.  
"There's making a mistake and there's burning down the Red Keep, almost killing everyone inside." She shook her head, nuzzling into her fur shawl, that she had recently been gifted.  
"But you did not kill anyone. No civilian has died wrongfully at your hand. And that is more than any other King or Queen can say." Daenerys huffed and ignored his comment, not in the mood to be flattered.

The journey was long, and the further north they travelled, the colder the weather became. Sansa felt at one with the bitter chill. But Daenerys had never experienced a cold like it. When they arrived, she did not have time to appreciate the beauty of the Vale, or meet Lord Arryn, she was immediately rushed in front of a fire, to warm her.

Sansa took time to explore her old home once more. Lord Arryn greeted her:  
"Lady Stark." With a bow and that was all. Petyr later told her that he was angry at them both for marrying, as Sansa was to be his bride prior to their engagement.

The snow was thick on the ground and it gave Sansa a sense of deja vu as she walked around the courtyard, her shoes sinking into the snow.

Once again, Petyr watched her. She seemed far more comfortable here, in the snow, than she had in the sun. She was one that belonged in the cold, a flower that thrived in snow. He watched as her cheeks grew red and her lips turned rosy and he could not resist.  
"I see you have settled back into your kingdom of snow." He called to her, gaining her attention. Sansa smiled up at him.  
"I must admit that I have missed it." She stated, gazing down at the snow.  
"I think everyone is relieved to be away from the fire."  
"All except the Queen." Sansa retorted, jesting with him.  
"She will come to enjoy it." He assured her.  
"I am sure you are right." She agreed.

They spent a few moments in silence as he watched her. She moved he snow around with her right foot, watching it as it molding into itself. He smiled, seeing her so happy and fascinated in her natural environment.  
"You always were happier in the snow." He cooed to her, pulled her into a tight embrace. He pulled her face close to his, just like before. He could smell the sweet scent of her on her breath and he pressed his lips against hers. The winter wind hit them both and they shivered against one another, but their lips did not part, not for more than a second. It was finally like it had been, just Petyr and Sansa, without any interference from the south.


	24. A Boy's Proposal

Sansa was given her old room at the Vale. It was small and warm, with a raging fire engulfing the air. The stone floor was cold and her body shivered as she awoke to walk around in the morning. But it felt more like home than the Red Keep, despite having spent more of her recent life there, the snow was her home, the cold hard stone beneath her feet.

Daenerys was on her way to being thawed. She knew that she would have to scrap most of her wardrobe and that a fire would always have to be burning in her room. Usually, she would have been given the largest room, but in this case, she was given a smaller room, in order to hold the heat in. Jorah never left her side. He ordered warm milk, hot food and warm pillows so that she might heat herself. Although she appreciated his effort, Daenerys wished that she could have a moment alone.

Sansa felt like she was always alone now. The small council would hold their meetings in Daenerys' room and Petyr was so busy with the reconstruction of the Red Keep that Sansa spent much of her time alone. One aspect of the Red Keep that Sansa missed was the garden, she could find herself there at any part of the day, relaxed and in deep thought. The gardens at the Vale were covered in snow, so Sansa had to find solace elsewhere.

Lord Arryn still had hope, despite the engagement of Sansa to his Stepfather. He would watch her as she would sew in the room with the boarded up moon door. He had not seen her in a long while and he hoped that she saw him as a man, compared to the child he was when they were last together. He used to think the idea of their marriage was rather obsurd, and even repulsive at times. But, when he watched her, her hands working fast and her mind concentrated on the task at hand, he found her rather beautiful.

Sansa knew that he watched, she could sense his boyish gaze. She felt flattered, but she hoped that he would never voice his opinions. On a cold winter's day, Lord Arryn dashed these hopes.  
"Lady Sansa. I have been meaning to speak with you." His voice faltered and cracked. Sansa indulged him for the moment, only to be polite.  
"I have been meaning to speak to you about marriage, our marriage." Sansa placed down her work and stared with wide eyes, in shock.  
"Excuse me?" She responded, disbelieving what she was hearing.  
"As you know, we have been betrothed to one another since my Mother passed and although you were Alayne then and now you are Sansa, you are the same to me. I know you have been married since and you might think that our bond has been broken, but to me it is very much alive." Sansa looked into the hopeful eyes of Robin Arryn and felt pity for him. She could not kill the hope, so she replied.  
"I think you should speak to your Stepfather about this." And then she returned to her sewing, waiting for him to leave.

Tyrion had heard it all. He shook his head as the foolish boy left, head high with hope. Petyr had not told the boy about his engagement and now Sansa knew. Tyrion approached her and sat on the step beneath her chair.  
"Well that was a little embarrassing." He remarked and Sansa let out a small chuckle.  
"Yes, I suppose you could describe it that way." She replied, her eyes still on her work.  
"You know he is probably the busiest man in Westeros at the moment." Petyr stated, referring to Petyr.  
"Yes, I am sure he is. The Red Keep was a beautiful building." Sansa's voice held the tone of despair.  
"He hasn't told Robin, he can't have." She sighed.  
"He probably hasn't seen him to tell him. He wakes up before anyone else and goes to sleep when the whole of the Vale is quiet with rest. He has his businesses to run, his affairs in the Vale, the distribution of Dragonglass and now the restoration of the Red Keep. I do not envy the man." Sansa remained silent, she knew what Tyrion said was true, but she did not know how to reply.  
"Just give him some time. Just because he is not present does not mean that he does not care." Without waiting for a response, Tyrion left her and Sansa placed her head in her hands and sighed, feeling rather awful about it all.

Petyr had been rushed to a point of exhaustion. He was dealing with his affairs in King's Landing, dealing with Dragonglass and speaking with the men about the Red Keep. But now, his brothels were running well, construction was underway in the Red Keep and his clients had all the Dragonglass they needed. Petyr needed a break. Time away from the work to relax. He decided that he would sleep late and take his breakfast in bed and he would listen to Sansa sing as she wandered through the hallways and then he would eat with her and hold her hand in his and shower her in his love for her.

However, when Petyr's rest came, it was rudely interrupted by Robin knocking at his door.  
"What is it Robin?" Petyr winced against the morning sun.  
"I need to speak to you about Sansa." Robin demanded.  
"What about her?" He asked, not fully awake yet.  
"My marriage to her." Now Petyr was fully awake.  
"What marriage? There will be no marriage between the two of you." He stated, staring into Robin's eyes to ensure that the message was delivered.  
"But I thought that we were attached." Robin pouted and looked to the floor.  
"Perhaps you were. But you are not anymore. Am I understood?" He asked, wondering how this had all happened behind his back.  
"Get out." He ordered and Robin left him alone. Petyr sighed and rubbed his eyes. His break would have to wait for another day.

Author's Note: I hope everyone had a lovely holidays and I hope you can forgive me for my little break from this fic. I would like your help. I would like you to suggest story lines or couplings you would like to see. Because you are the reader and I want to ensure that I am giving you want you want. Thank you very much.  
Paige x


	25. A Moment Together

Daenerys had ordered portraits of her suitors and Jorah had obliged. When they finally arrived, she and Jorah laid them out on the floor and examined them.  
"He is rather handsome." Jorah pointed out a Dothraki Khal, with a strong jawline and deep eyes.  
"I suppose." She replied. She sat back and looked at them. They all looked almost right, but none of them gained her attraction. She sighed when she realised what the matter was.  
"They are not him." She stated and Jorah looked at her with pity and adoration in his eyes.  
"They were never going to be." He added. Khal Drogo was a magnificent man and Jorah knew that she would never find a Khal to match him. He noticed the tear rolling down her cheek and asked her if she wanted him to leave.  
"No, stay." She caught his arm and pulled him down to her level. He was warm and comforting. She wrapped her arms around his bicep and wept quietly, feeling the deep thud of his heart.

Daenerys was unaware of the audience she had. Sansa had been on her way to deliver a dress to the Queen when she noticed the conversation and stood for a moment to listen in. She felt such pity for Daenerys, but she could not stop herself from listening at the door.

Petyr saw her there, stood with a dress clutched in her arms. She was eavesdropping and he knew it. He had not planned to see her today but he had a little time before his next arrangement and this opportunity was too good to miss.

Sansa did not feel him behind her.  
"It's very rude to listen in to the Queen's conversations you know?" He whispered in her ear and she jumped out of her skin. She had been caught.  
"I was waiting for our appointment." She justified herself, turning slowly to face him.  
"Ah I see, and that is why you are clutching that dress so tight?" He jested her. She looked down to the ground. She knew what she had been doing was wrong, but she had wished that she could have been caught by anyone else but him.

Petyr revelled in the power he had over Sansa. She pouted and looked down at the floor and he looked at her, for a long while, perhaps longer than necessary. He leant into her ear and watched her quiver.  
"Don't worry, little wolf. I will keep your secret." He then placed a soft kiss behind her ear and left her, walking at pace to his next engagement.

After Petyr was gone, Sansa was called in by Daenerys for her dress fitting.  
"This is warmer than the others. I like it." Daenerys smiled, snuggling into the fabric.  
"I am glad. I have also been working on the quilt that you asked for. That should be done soon." Sansa smiled down at the Queen.  
"Very good. That is all for today, Sansa." Sansa curtsied and left. Apart from her sewing work she was unsure what to do with herself for the remainder of the day.

Tyrion sat with the Queen in the afternoon.  
"Are you warming up at all?" He asked her.  
"Yes, little by little." She replied, smiling down at him.  
"Very good. And I hear that your dragons are doing very well in their new home." He nodded to her.  
"Oh, I am so glad." Daenerys smiled, snuggling into her fur shawl.  
"I relish every piece of good news I receive lately." She sighed.  
"You know, things are not all bad. The restoration of the Red Keep will allow it to stand for longer and it has produced jobs for many. And, despite my protestations, the Vale is really very nice. Baelish is working harder than a dog to ensure that things are running smoothly and progress is being made." Tyrion sung praises of the work being done. Daenerys grimaced, thinking of Petyr working so hard, knowing that he would not be seeing Sansa in the process. Something had to be done.

Petyr had just finished his meeting with his informant from the Red Keep and he was now enjoying a very short break, before having a meeting with the Queen. He was shocked to find that it was Daenerys that came to him.  
"Your Majesty." She placed a hand up.  
"Please, stay seated." She implored him. She sat opposite him and relaxed back into her seat.  
"Now, I do not want to hear about the finances of the seven kingdoms; I do not want to hear about the restoration of the Red Keep. I am here to tell you that you are to do no work for the next three days. That you are to read and relax and bathe and lounge about the Vale to your heart's content. I can not have you overworked, Baelish." Petyr could not believe his ears.  
"But the work-"  
"It shall be sorted by the members of the small council. For now, you must take your mind off of work." She stood.  
"I hope I shall not see you for the next three days, enjoy yourself." She smiled, before leaving him. It took Petyr a moment to understand what had happened, before he was up, running to his chamber to change and relax.

Sansa took her afternoon tea with Tyrion.  
"How is your brother?" He asked.  
"Yes, he is very well from what I am told. I believe Tormund is to be staying with us once again very soon." Sansa smiled down at her cup, knowing that this would bring Brienne a great amount of joy.  
"I am glad to hear of that. He is a very likeable man." Tyrion added and Sansa was glad that Tormund had made a good impression.

Gretchen had been visited by Lord Baelish while she was washing Lady Sansa's clothes.  
"Do you know where Lady Sansa is?" He asked her and Gretchen replied that she was at tea with Lord Tyrion.  
"Very good. Could you go and tell her that I request her company before dinner, please?" Petyr asked.  
"Yes, of course, my Lord." She curtsied and Petyr made his way to his chambers to slumber for a short while.

Sansa was shocked to see Gretchen interrupt her tea with Tyrion.  
"My Lady, I am sorry, but I am here to tell you that Lord Baelish has requested your company before dinner." Sansa flushed and placed a hand over her mouth.  
"I am currently having tea with Lord Tyrion, but I shall go straight after. Thank you, Gretchen." Sansa smiled at the girl, before she left.

Tyrion watched as the girl left. He wished she had stayed just a moment longer. He had never seen Sansa's maid before, but he could not take his eyes off of her. She was beautiful, dressed in modest clothes with her dirty blonde hair piled in complicated braids onto her head. She must have been a few years older than Sansa, still youthful with skin like snow and eyes clear and green. He tucked this niggling desire into the back of his mind and returned to his conversation with Sansa, but it was there, even if tucked away.

Sansa had gone to Petyr after her tea with Tyrion. She knocked at his door; however, when she gained no response, she pushed the door open. Petyr laid on the bed, fast asleep, relaxation falling over his face. Sansa smiled down at him. He had been working so hard and he deserved to have a break. She did not want to disturb him. So she removed her dress and corset and slid into the bed next to him. She heard his sigh and felt his arms wrap around her and she smiled, finally, since being at the Vale, they were having a moment together.

Author's Note: I am almost a little embarrassed to post this chapter. It goes without saying that I apologise for my absence. However, truth be told, I was unsure where the plot was heading and had lost inspiration for the story. That combined with the pressures of University was a terrible combination. Anyway, I am back and I would like to hear your suggestions and wishes, once again. I am going to try harder to keep on track with this story, and I hope you shall forgive me. Paige x


	26. Three Days

Petyr and Sansa did not go to dinner that night. They each took a bowl of stew in his chambers.  
"What have you been doing, Sansa?" Petyr asked, looking up at her as he laid.  
"I have been making dresses, for the Queen." She smiled down at him.  
"Is that all?" He asked and she thought for a moment.  
"Sometimes I sit with Lord Arryn and tell him stories, or I take tea with Lord Tyrion or Lord Varys. I spend the rest of my time reading histories and writing letters to my brother." She mused. Petyr could have listened to her musings all day. He smiled up at her.  
"I suppose it is not as interesting as your work." She looked down at her hands.  
"Don't ever say that." He stopped her. "Your work is just as important as mine. The Queen must be clothed." He stated with seriousness in his face.

They lay together that night and she hummed songs of old while running her fingers through the hair on his chest. Petyr felt he was in heaven, not that he believed in those sorts of things. Sansa was all sweetness and good and he wondered what he had done to deserve her.  
"I love you." He whispered against her hair and felt her smile against his chest.  
"And I you." She replied and he was happy, simply happy for the first time in a while.

They took a morning walk together in the snow the next day.  
"How is the Red Keep?" Sansa asked. No one spoke to her about such matters, but she wished they did. If she was anyone else, Petyr would have hated her for asking such a question, but he wanted to share his work with Sansa, he wanted her to be proud of him.  
"It shall keep." Was all he said and Sansa placed a hand over her mouth as she chuckled at his word play.

After lunch, she sewed and he read. It seemed a perfectly productive way to spend the day with one another. Petyr enjoyed watching her fingers work with the fabric and she enjoyed the conversations they had while she worked.  
"When does Tormund arrive?" Petyr asked her.  
"In two days time, I believe." Sansa replied, looking up at him.  
"And how are things in the North?" He asked and Sansa sighed, unsure how to answer his questions.  
"Things are not good. Jon remains strong, but I know that he feels the war coming and he fears for his people." Sansa looked down at her dress, worrying about her brother and her land.  
"Once the white walkers come, it shall not matter if we are North or South, it shall be our problem to fight together." Sansa thought aloud.  
"If the Queen could cope better in the cold, I would take her to see Jon myself." She continued.  
"Is it truly that bad?" Petyr began to worry.  
"They are a threat to us all, not only in Westeros, but the whole world." Petyr looked into Sansa's eyes and saw a fear there that he had never seen before, a fear for the lives of all.

Tyrion was clued in to the war in the North. He had not told Sansa, but he had been keeping a correspondence with Jon Snow since they had been at the Vale.  
"We need to be focusing on this and this alone." He advised the Queen.  
"If you do not, it could mean the death of us all." He continued. Daenerys had not been aware of the scale of the issues that brewed in the North. She became worried, she had never even come into contact with a White Walker, let alone defeated one, she did not know what to do.  
"Is there anything that kills them? Wounds them?" She asked, her voice slightly panicked.  
"Dragon Glass and Dragon fire." Tyrion stated plainly. Daenerys sighed, her dragons had a purpose once again.  
"Well, we have plenty of that." She smiled down at him and Tyrion knew then that she was the best leader to head the army against the forces beyond the wall.

Tormund hated long journeys, and although no journey had been as long as his journey from beyond the wall to behind it, he still detested travelling. The one thing that kept him going was the thought of seeing Brienne. He hadn't realized how much he would miss her, until he was parted from her. Once back at the North, he could not focus on anything. He missed the honeydew smell of her skin (that was always clean) and the golden tinge in her hair and the way that she admired him as nobody else did.

Brienne had heard the news of Tormund's return from Lady Sansa. She had thrown herself into her work since hearing, deciding that there was no use in standing around, daydreaming all day. However, when she was alone in her chamber at night, Brienne would allow herself to miss Tormund; his arms holding her tight, and the graze of his stubble against her cheek, these were the things she would allow herself to think and every night, before she fell asleep, she would send him a prayer, wishing him safe travels.

Daenerys was becoming acclimatised to the Vale's weather. On the odd occasion, she would go out for a walk with Tyrion or Lady Sansa. She enjoyed the Northern girl's company immensely and she wished that she could spend more time with her, but she would have to wait for her three days to be over with Baelish. She was glad that she had given Petyr the time off, for she hadn't seen him once and she was sure that he was having a very fine time.

Sansa laid beside Petyr, relaxed. These past three days had been the best she had experienced in a long while. It reminded her of her childhood, when she felt guarded from the gritty world of war. Petyr made her feel safe, as if he could fend off every whitewalker that may come their way. She wasn't sure if this was true, but it comforted her, nonetheless.  
"This is our last evening." Petyr whispered to her and Sansa disliked his fatal tone.  
"Don't say that." She whispered back.  
"Why not? It is the last evening of the leave I have been given by the Queen. I must go back to work and my time shall be taken up once more, leaving us parted once again." Sansa frowned.  
"But, if I could come to you in the evenings th-"  
"Sansa, we are not yet married. We have broken the rules enough already, my love. I want to do this properly." Sansa pouted and Petyr clocked it. He placed a gentle kiss to her lips, then stood, to Sansa's surprise, to open the door.  
"I will not have anyone think that we are doing anything unethical." He stood by the door. He was asking Sansa to leave, he was actually asking her to leave, she could not believe what she was witnessing.  
"Very well." She frowned, storming past him, letting a tear fall once she was in the corridor and heard the door shut behind her.

Sansa was in shock. Petyr had asked her to leave. The one person who had always accepted her and cherished her had asked her to leave. Perhaps he was bored of her. Perhaps, after spending three days with her, he had had enough. Sansa could not help feeling hurt. She felt as if once again, she had been thrown from her comforting bubble, into the world of war. It wasn't fair, after the three wonderful days they had had, it wasn't fair for him to ask her to leave. _But the world isn't fair._ She thought to herself and Sansa supposed that was the only kind of peace she was going to get.


	27. Venturing North

Tormund was greeted with open arms. He was now a friend of the crown and as a friend of the crown, he was welcomed most warmly.  
"What news from the North?" Daenerys asked. Tormund took a deep breath, wishing he did not have to relay this information.  
"Things are not well in the North. The harvest is failing and we have little food, not enough to feed all of the families. We prioritise women and children, but the men are becoming weak, and the white walkers are continuing south." Daenerys shook her head. She could not let her country suffer.  
"We shall send fruits of the southern harvest north and I must ask one thing of you." Daenerys announced.  
"What is it?" Tormund replied in a way unbefitting of the Queen, but befitting of Tormund. Donors did not notice, or if she did, she did not show it.  
"I would like you to take a message to Jon Snow." She stated and watch Tormund's face fall.  
"I have been told by Jon Snow to remain here, as a representative of the North." He answered back, much to the surprise of everyone in the room.  
"Is that so? Well, someone else shall have to deliver this message, as it is too sensitive for a pigeon." Sansa had not thought of volunteering, until she had opened her mouth.  
"I shall go." She announced proudly. Nobody had expected Sansa to volunteer and the room fell into a stunned silence.  
"Are you sure?" Daenerys asked, sad to see Sansa go.  
"Yes, it will be good for me to see my brother." She explained and Daenerys nodded, accepting the decision.

Petyr was furious when he got wind of Sansa's journey to the North. She was being childish. He had turned her away and now she was throwing a tantrum, a tantrum that could risk her life. He had not been present when she had made her decision, else he would have stopped it immediately. The North was no longer safe, and he could not have her putting herself in danger.

Varys understood what was going on. Baelish had been engaged to the girl for quite some time and she was becoming impatient. He had grown less affectionate in public, out of fear of people's gossip. Varus was a little disappointed in his colleague. He knew Petyr to be an outspoken man, who did not bow to the whims of others. But on this he was being budged and it did not suit him.  
"You know the North is not safe." He stated to Sansa, as they walked through the Vale.  
"Yes, I know." She sighed, he felt sorry for her, feeling she had to resort to something so drastic.  
"You know, you could make him suffer a different way, a way that would not put you in danger." Sansa's head snapped up, knowing that she had been found out, then she shook her head.  
"I just need to get away." She looked down to the ground, wishing that it had not come to this. Varys watched her leave, he wished that he could stop her from going. He felt a kind of paternal affection for her and it pained him, seeing her go to the North.

Sansa would not see anyone for the rest of the day. She could not stand to see Petyr and she certainly would not sit through him lecturing her on what a bad idea it was to go and how she was to stay at the Vale. She simply would not have it. So, she asked Brienne to man her door while she spent the day making a new dress.

He had tried to go to her, to talk her out of this silly plan, but he had come up against Brienne and even the best of men knew that going up against Brienne of Tarth was a bad idea. So, he left her and his mind became bitter. If she wanted to go, she could go. He would know if she cared if she returned to him. She wanted to be a child and tantrum, he would deny her the attention that she was striving for. He had no doubt in his mind that she would come back, begging for forgiveness for being so childish.

But Sansa had no intention of begging, nor returning to Petyr before she left. She was hurt, he had changed like the wind and she was ready to take a break from it all and venture back to the North.

Daenerys embraced her as she stood in front of the carriage. She would be travelling for two days and two nights. But she had no intention of leaving her carriage for the length of the journey. She wanted to be alone. This was what this whole trip was about, being away from Petyr and away from her thoughts. Daenerys slipped a note into Sansa's pocket.  
"Please, deliver this message to Jon Snow." She gave Sansa her orders and she embraced her one final time, before watching her get into the carriage.

Petyr was watching from above, not wanting to be seen. He had an overwhelming feeling that he had failed. He should have been married to Sansa by now, they should be sharing a suite and dining together. There should be no sneaking around in the late hours of the night. He wanted to blame the fire, he wanted to blame the busy nature of the state. But when it came down to it, there was no one to blame but himself. Daenerys would have been happy to have had their wedding in the Vale and the sooner the better. But Petyr had stalled, and waited for the right time, and he feared now that it would never come.

Sansa watched the Vale disappear into the distance and wondered if she was making the right decision. It was very drastic, going to the North, and it was not safe, with the current state with beings beyond the wall. For the first time since making this decision, she was scared.

Petyr began to panic. He couldn't think of anything to do. He paced about his office and tugged on his hair in frustration. He could not believe that he had just let her go, that his pride had stopped him from acting. This was a cry for attention and he had ignored it.

Tyrion knew that Petyr had made a mistake, he could see it in his behaviour. The way he would tap his feet in meetings and sweat would trickle down his forehead when the weather was rather mild. He regretted letting Sansa go and now he had to deal with that regret. Tyrion had pondered on the idea of talking to him about it. He wondered if perhaps Petr would feel unburdened if he shared his problem, but he was met with a stone wall of bitterness and impatience.

Sansa rather enjoyed the journey. She rested and watched the kingdom go by, rolling green fields and shorelines, now covered with the bitter chill of winter. She pulled her covers over her and counted down the hours before she would be with Jon.

Jon Snow had worked non-stop since his sister had left for the south. The white walkers were becoming an increasingly large problem and, along with his advisors, he had managed to save as many lives as possible. But when he laid awake at night, he secretly wished that he could flee the North, and venture to somewhere far safer, where nobody knew his face. He missed being bastard Jon Snow, he missed being a nobody.

The announcement of the Queen's carriages came and Jon rounded up the most important people to go out and meet their visitors. He had heard no news of a visit, but he would be as warm and accommodating as he could be to whoever had travelled from the Vale to see them.

Jon expected the Queen, or potentially a member of the small council. But he almost lost his footing when Sansa stepped off of the carriage, wearing a stunning rust red gown. The moment was silent, both stood in shocked awe of one another. But once the moment ended, Sansa ran towards Jon, tears streaming down her cheeks and his warm, familiar embrace comforted her.

Jon could not understand what kind of business Sansa had in the North. She was definitely more safe in the south, a point that Jon had ensured to inform her of, but she was here now, and she was more welcome than anyone who could have come.

Sansa hoped that she could spend time with her brother and he could help her with her dilemma. She was very hopeful when she was invited to sit with Jon only a few hours after she arrived.  
"Sansa, why are you here?" He asked her, his voice concerned.  
"The Queen asked me to deliver this." She passed across the letter and Jon took it.  
"But anyone could have given me this letter. Why are you here?" He read Sansa like a book. He knew that she would not be here unless there was something seriously wrong in the south.  
"I needed to get away and I wanted to see you, Jon. Spend some time with you." She smiled up at him hopefully, but felt her face fall when she saw his disappointed expression.  
"I leave in the morning, on a raid of a white walker territory that we have learnt of. I shall be gone for many weeks. I am sorry Sansa, but I think you should return to the Vale. Whatever is happening there is no worse than what is happening here. You shall be safe there and I can not say the same for Winterfell. I am sorry." He apologised and Sansa felt her heart sink. And it sank further when she saw Jon rise and look down at her.  
"I have to go now. I must ask you to leave." He embraced her and felt her chest shake.  
"I love you." She whispered, not knowing what to say.  
"And I you."

She watched him leave, letting the devastation of the situation wash over her. She wished to get away from her problems, to spend time with her brother, but he had more important appointments and hearing of his misfortunes made her feel very bratty and small. She wished she had never come, that she had stayed in the Vale and sulked and pouted. But now she had another two day journey ahead of her. The people with her were surprised to be leaving so soon, but they knew not to ask. It was not yet sundown when Sansa left Winterfell. And despite her love for the place, she did not wish to stay. She felt very alone, Arya was somewhere out in the world, Jon was going into battle, her parents were dead, her brothers were dead and the only friends she had were those in the Vale. She didn't know what would happen when she returned, but she closed her mind off to this question, knowing that it would bring her down, and focused on the passing scenery of the Kingdom, covered in ice and snow.

Authors's Note: I am sorry I have been away, but it is exam season for university students in the UK at the moment. I have been focusing on my studies, but I am now finished with my academic year. I hope you can forgive me.


	28. Home Early

Tyrion had not expected Sansa back for many days, even weeks. So he was shocked when he heard of her return not two days after she had left. He prepared everything as quickly as he could, but with such short time, it was difficult.

Varys was waiting for her when she arrived back to the vale. Sansa didn't know what to do. She was embarrassed and humiliated by the entire situation. When she saw Varys, she covered her face and shook her head in disappointment of herself.  
"What happened, my child?" He asked, walking beside her.  
"I forgot my brother has a war to fight." She sighed and Varys understood.  
"He was not available to spend time with you?" He asked.  
"He asked me to leave the very same day." She sighed.  
"That does not mean that he loves you any less. Jon Snow is a very busy man." Varys told Sansa, not wanting her to get down about all of this.  
"I know that. I just really could have used the time away." She sighed.  
"I know." Varys concluded. Unsure how to advise her further.

Petyr had heard that Sansa had returned. He had spent the past few nights, tossing and turning, imagining every scenario where she could get hurt or worse. Knowing she was back safely at the Vale was a large relief. But now he was unsure how to act, whether he should go and see her or wait for her to seek him out. He had acted in a way he thought was in her best interest. But he had hurt her, he knew that now. He would wait it out and see how she acted towards him at dinner.

Daenerys wished that she could hurry up the marriage of Sansa and Baelish. But she knew that there was a fracture, a problem within the union. And until that was fixed, there was no way there was going to be able to have a wedding.

Sansa convinced herself to go and eat dinner in the hall with the others. She was nervous to see him, but someone had to make the first move. When she entered the hall, the table fell silent. Varys smiled, Tyrion kept eating and Petyr looked at her like she was the only thing illuminating his life. He hadn't seen her in so long, not face to face like this. He felt the air leave his chest, as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

Sansa could sit opposite Petyr or she could sit opposite Varys. She understood that this was a decision that should be given a great deal of thought. She looked at Petyr and felt her hard exterior melt a little. Maybe she had overreacted. He was only trying to protect her from slander. She took a deep breath and sat opposite Petyr, looking him in his steel grey eyes.

He couldn't stop staring. He knew that the whole table was observing this moment and would no doubt feed it on until everyone in the Vale knew. But he didn't care. Petyr could have lost her in the last few days, this was a fact that had only just become real. She could have been killed and he would have never been able to tell her how much he cared for her, or to apologise for his foolish behaviour. He could not let his pride get in the way, not again.  
"How was your journey, Lady Stark?" He asked formally, looking down at his food.  
"It was long, and cold. But the landscape has changed so much with the coming of winter that I found myself seeing sights I have never seen before." She replied, her tone light and Petyr looked up at her and smiled.

After dinner, Petyr asked if he could spend some time with Sansa, alone. They walked about the hallways of the Vale, it being too cold to walk in the gardens.  
"Was Jon happy to see you?" Petyr asked.  
"Yes, if not a little worried that I had travelled alone." Sansa admitted.  
"You should not have gone alone." Petyr agreed.  
"There was no one to go with me." Sansa looked down at the ground. Petyr looked down at her.  
"That is not true. If you had only asked, I would have come with you." He stated and Sansa huffed and kept her gaze on her shoes.  
"I thought it would have wounded your sensibilities." She chuckled to herself and Petyr gave her that one, feeling slightly wounded by her attack.  
"I am sorry for what I did before. I now see that it was wrong for me to ask you to leave. But I was only trying to protect you." His voice was strained as he attempted to explain himself.  
"I know." Sansa said, with finality in her voice. She took his hand and looked up at him.  
"It was just hard. Hearing it from you." She looked down once again, but Petyr caught her chin with his finger this time.  
"Please, tell me this next time. Don't run off on a journey that could potentially kill you." He pleaded.  
"Very well." Sansa agreed.

They continued walking and an issue had begun to plague Sansa's mind. She knew if she did not speak with Petyr about it, she would become angry again.  
"Petyr, I think our engagement has gone on long enough." She admitted. Petyr was glad to hear these words come from Sansa. He would have married her weeks ago if she had relaid this sentiment sooner.  
"You wish to be wed?" He asked, ensuring that he understood her.  
"I wish for things to come out of the shadows. To cease sneaking around in the middle of the night. I want a husband, a life that I can call my own and know shall be stable for years to come." Sansa breathed heavily, she knew she was taking a risk by declaring her feelings, but it was all she could think to do.  
"Sansa, I have been waiting for you to be ready. I see you are now. I shall speak with the Queen. No more sneaking, no more secrets, I promise." He smiled down at her. She did not let him kiss her that night and he understood why. He was in the badlands and it would take a little while to get out.

"Goodnight, Lord Baelish." She said to him, as she closed her door for the night.  
"Goodnight, Lady Sansa." Petyr replied as he walked down the hall, now with a greater understanding of his situation and the woman he was going to marry.


	29. The Queen's Choice

Sansa was unsure how to feel. She was happy that Petyr understood how she felt and she was happy that the marriage was going through. But it all seemed too easy. He had forgiven her too quickly. She had done a silly, selfish thing and she was ashamed and she wanted him to be angry, to shun her for a few days. This all seemed too simple, and she was sceptical.

Petyr wanted to be angry with her, he understood that what he had done was wrong. But she had responded to his mistake childishly and he wanted to punish her for it. But he could not find it within himself to punish her. He was unsure why, maybe because he did not want to hassle of having to win her favour again, or maybe he believed she didn't deserve to be punished. Whatever it was, he wanted to marry Sansa, so he could not be cruel to her.

The Queen was shocked when she received a visit from Baelish. At first, she panicked, wondering if something was wrong with the finances, but then she relaxed when Petyr stated he was making a personal visit.  
"San- Lady Stark has made it clear to me that she wishes for the day of our marriage to not be far away." Petyr spoke in riddles, but Daenerys quickly unscrambled them.  
"She wishes for you to be married?" Daenerys asked. She was sceptical of Sansa's intentions. Not a minute ago, she was rushing off to the North to be away from Petyr, now she wished for them to be married in due course, it all seemed a little confusing.  
"I don't understand." She stated, her eyebrows furrowing.  
"I should speak to Sansa about this. I don't want any mistakes to be made." The Queen said finally. She dismissed Petyr and thought for a long moment about what must be going on in Sansa's mind.

Petyr left feeling deflated. The Queen had not granted him permission to marry Sansa because she did not believe her feelings were the same as his. He was ashamed, his pride had been wounded and he was unsure what to do with himself.

Varys saw Petyr walking to his room, looking rather glum. Head to the ground and feet moving slowly. He wondered what could be making the master of coin feel this way. But decided that now was not the time to be asking him such things. Better to leave him to his own devices, then speak with him when in a finer mood.

Sansa was shocked to see Petyr missing from dinner. She wondered what other duties he had to attend to. She had been called to the Queen after dinner, so she was going to eat her fill before she went. The men noticed Sansa's nervous eating and put the clues together to understand that Petyr and Sansa were having issues.

A couple that was not having so many issues was Tormund and Brienne. It seemed that their temperaments were very similar and they valued the same attributes in a person: strength, courage, humour. They sat together one night, by the fire in Brienne's room and discussed the future.  
"Do you think you shall ever marry?" Brienne asked, feeling her cheeks turn a deep red.  
"I do not fully understand the process of marriage down south." Tormund furrowed his brows.  
"Well, it is when two people want to live together for the rest of their lives and want to have a family. They get wed, under the crown." Brienne attempted to explain.  
"I want a family. But I don't know if I would ever dress up in fancy clothes and say some silly words to silly gods." He shook his head and Brienne understood that this was a foreign concept to him.  
"I would like to get married one day. Have a family and have my own house." Brienne day dreamed about a small place, not too far from the Capitol, where he could still work, but come home to her children. It seemed so sweet, exactly the life that Brienne wanted. Tormund looked at Brienne as she stared off into the distance. He wanted to give her what she wanted, but he didn't know how. Beyond the wall, a man would simply proclaim that a woman was his and that was it. Down south there were so many rules and regulations that he didn't understand. If he was going to give Brienne what she wanted, he would need help.

Sansa sat before the Queen, nibbling on lemon cakes that the Queen had ordered in for her. She was nervous. She was unaware of what the Queen wished to discuss and she could feel a pressure build on her chest.  
"Sansa, I had a visit from Lord Baelish today. He told me something and I want you to verify this for me. He said that you wished to be married, for the engagement to end." Daenerys' voice showed she was obviously confused. Sansa took a deep breath.  
"Yes, that is correct, your Majesty." Sansa looked down at her plate.  
"There's no need for all of that." She held up a hand in protestation.  
"Tell me how you feel, Sansa." The Queen instructed. Sansa took a moment to gather her thoughts, before she began.  
"It has been a long while since Petyr first made his feelings known to me. Since then we have lived half a marriage, sharing time in the darkness of the night, but never being able to stay in each other's company. I went to the North because I was angry at him for this, for having to sneak around at night. I want this half marriage to end. I want him as my husband, so that we can be seen together, we don't have to worry about the whispers of the court. I just want to be able to relax and start my life with him." Sansa sighed and the Queen understood. She was frustrated. She had been given half a cake and told she would have to wait for the second half.

Daenerys sat back for a moment and folded her hands over her lap.  
"You love him?" She asked Sansa and watched as the young lady's face turned red.  
"Yes, very much so." Daenerys could see the sincerity in Sansa's words.  
"Very well. I see no problem in arranging a date for your marriage, once the Red Keep is restored."  
"No." Sansa interrupted the Queen.  
"I am sorry, but I have already had one wedding in the Red Keep. I do not wish to be married there again." Sansa whispered, looking down at her hands.  
"I see." Daenerys understood.  
"I wish to be married here, in the Vale. I don't want a large ceremony, or lots of guests. I just want the people who care about me and a simple ceremony." Sansa smiled up at the Queen.  
"Very well. I shall speak with Lord Baelish and we shall pick out a date." Daenerys smiled and dismissed Sansa for the evening.

Sansa left feeling relaxed and relieved. She understood that sometimes, things can be easy and that life does not always have to be about power struggles and who's on top. Petyr wasn't going to resent her for going to the North and she allowed herself to be glad about that. Things were finally looking a little simpler for Sansa and for this, she was happy.


	30. Asking Questions

Jon Snow opened the note from the Queen once Sansa had left. He was glad that he had done so before his men had left on their raid, as she had sent him the secret location of a hoard of dragon glass, that could be used to defeat the white walkers. Jon was relieved. He was sure, with the amount of white walkers they were going to face, that many of his men would not return. But with a dragon glass sword for every man, there was a very slim chance that he would lose as many men. Jon was grateful, grateful indeed.

The mood in the Vale was entirely different to the unforgiving North. A wedding was in the near future and everyone was preparing. Sansa had sent a letter to her sister, in hopes that she might return for her marriage, but she would not hold her breath. She had been busy making her dress from scratch and Tyrion and Varys ensured that all the food and decorations were to be prepared.

Tyrion could not stop thinking about Sansa's maid, Gretchen, ever since he had seen her that day, he had done everything he could to cross paths with her. He would walk past Sansa's room in the morning and bump into her, he would journey to parts of the Vale where the maids did their work to see her. He was captivated by her sweetness. He knew he was being bold, but he could not live with mere chance encounters anymore. So, he marched up to her room and knocked at the door.

Gretchen was shocked when she saw Lord Tyrion stood at her door. Immediately she panicked, fearing for Sansa, but Tyrion's smile calmed her, bringing on confusion.  
"Miss?" Tyrion asked for her name.  
"Weyre, my Lord. But you may call me Gretchen." She smiled down at him. Tyrion felt his hands become moist as the girl looked down at him.  
"As you know. Your lady, Sansa Stark, is to be wed and I am in need of a companion for this occasion. I would like to ask if you would be such a companion?" Gretchen was flustered. Lord Tyrion was a handsome man, but she could have never dreamt that he would ask him to accompany him to the wedding.  
"I am not sure if the maids shall be invited, my Lord." She cast her face down.  
"That is nonsense. Ask Lady Stark and I am sure she shall allow you." After a moment, Tyrion continued.  
"Is that your only response?" He asked and Gretchen smiled to herself.  
"I would be honoured to be your companion, my Lord. I shall ask my Lady this evening." The door closed and Tyrion beamed. She had said yes, it was a complicated yes, but it was a yes nonetheless.

Petyr was dealing with a mix set of emotions. He couldn't have been happier about his current circumstance, but there were questions that his mind would not let him forget.

Tyrion found Baelish in the courtyard in the early morning, sat on the steps, in deep thought.  
"Pre-wedding doubts?" Tyrion asked. Petyr was glad someone had taken his mind off of his unforgiving mind.  
"Were you nervous before you married Sansa?" He asked, thinking it a strange question to be asking. Tyrion sat beside Petyr and sighed.  
"I was miserable. Not because she was not kind or beautiful. Of course she was both. But I knew it was not what she wanted. She wanted Loras, despite his shortcomings and I was her friend, but the last person she would have wished to marry. I was her punishment." Tyrion sighed. It was the truth and he was proud that he had been an honourable man during their brief marriage.  
"I fear, that if her Mother was here, that things would have been so different." Tyrion was shocked by his confession.  
"It is not that I cared for Catlyn more than I do Sansa, not at all. It is just so perverse, how things have turned out and I know, if her parents were here, that they would not give me their blessing. There seems something dishonourable in marrying someone knowing her parents would object if they could." Petyr admitted. Tyrion was shocked and impressed at Petyr's comprehension of the situation.  
"Listen. Sansa is not her Mother and as for the age difference, if it does not bother either of you then it should not bother anyone else. You have the permission of her Brother and of the Queen. Ned and Catelyn Stark are not here to give their word so we might not know what they would say. There is no point denying yourself happiness because of your guilt that you are a bad man. You are not a bad man, Petyr. You might have done some bad things, but you saved this kingdom and Westeros will forever be grateful." Petyr was shocked at Tyrion's kind words and they parted on good terms.

Gretchen was nervous to ask Sansa about attending the wedding as Lord Tyrion's companion. It was above her, such a task, she knew that. But there was something inside of her that wished she could be worthy of such a role. She found Sansa while she was resting in her room and asked if she might have a moment of her time.  
"Of course, Gretchen. What is it?" She encouraged her maid.  
"Well, my Lady. Lord Tyrion Lannister has asked if I might attend the wedding, your wedding that is, as his companion. I told him I would have to ask you first as I did not know if you would need me on the day." Gretchen looked down at her feet. She was dressed well, and treated with a kind hand. Sansa had never been anything but kind to Gretchen and this was no exception.  
"Of course, Gretchen. You must accept Lord Tyrion's invitation to the wedding. I think you shall find him an agreeable man." She smiled up at her maid as she beamed, knowing she could accept Lord Tyrion.

Varys had been busy with the organisation of the wedding. But Tormund had found him in a moment of relaxation. He had been waiting to speak to Varys for a long time, but finding the right moment had been challenging.  
"Varys," He began in a tone that made the man listen.  
"you know the ways of this culture." He stated and Varys was unsure how to react to the rugged man, attempting to be dignified.  
"I shall take that as a complement." He eventually replied.  
"Where I am from, a man calls a woman his own and they are bonded for life. But I do not think this is how it is done here." Varys let out a little chuckle.  
"No, I am afraid not. That would be far easier. Come, sit with me." Varys invited Tormund. He liked the man, he was a pleasant change from the pomp of the court.  
There was silence for a few moments. Varys waited for Tormund to start, but Tormund expected Varys to begin, so he did.  
"So tell me, who is the lady in question?" Varys already knew that it was Brienne, but he wanted to hear it from Tormund himself.  
"Brienne. I thought she was not the same as the other southern women, but she is. Not entirely, but she wants to be married, in the way you are down here." He sighed, not having a comprehension of the ways of the south.  
"So you wish to spend the rest of your life with the knight from Tarth?" Varys asked plainly.  
"Yes." Tormund replied, plainer still.  
"Well, that is what you need to tell her. In a way, marriage is the same as claiming a woman for your own. All that you have to do is stand in front of some important people when you do it." Varys informed Tormund. The northern man thought for a moment and decided that Varys was right.  
"You are a clever man. Not clever with a sword, but clever with knowledge." Varys was touched.  
"You are a fine man, Tormund. You have shown us all that we were wrong about your people." This was just as high a compliment for Tormund and he left with a plan to tell Brienne how he felt.

Brienne had not seen Tormund all day. But that was not unusual. She sat in her room after dinner, relaxing when he entered. He told her to stay seated and sat opposite her.  
"I am not good with your southern ways and I do not know if I am doing this right." He warned her ahead of time.  
"I have never met a woman like you before, Brienne of Tarth. You have fire like a northern woman, but you are soft like the women of the south. I want to spend the rest of my days at your side. I want you to be my woman. And what I am asking is if you would like the same?" He wasn't down on one knee, he wasn't singing ballads about her beauty. But that was how Brienne liked it. She didn't want him to be soft like the men of the south, else she would have gone for a southern man. She did not cry, but she beamed with joy.  
"Yes, I would like the same." She nodded her head and he kissed her in the way only two people truly, passionately in love can kiss one another, without a worry and without inhibitions. Tormund was proud of himself and he would have to give thanks to Varys, for helping him. Without his advice, he was sure that he would never have asked Brienne to marry him and he would still be clueless.


	31. The Wedding

The wedding was set. The cold, bitter air chilled the Vale. Visitors had come from Dorn and King's landing to witness the marriage. Opinions on the match varied. She was young and beautiful and he was very wealthy, it should have been the perfect match. But people's jealousy turned them bitter. Women scoffed that Sansa was only a replacement for Catlyn and the men thought Baelish too plain for Sansa, or they commented his wealth was not to her standard. Nobody mentioned the emotion, the love they shared for each other. It was all plotting and tactics and statistics, it was shallow.

Sansa was terrified. This would be her third marriage. She was sure that people thought of her as used goods, and she supposed, in a way, they were right. She was not entering her marriage untouched, but Petyr did not mind and his was the only opinion she cared about.

It was early in the morning when she rose. Gretchen was going to help her get ready, before readying herself for Tyrion. Sansa could not believe the day had come. They had waited so long, they had struggled and fought, but that didn't seem to matter anymore.

Sansa believed her wedding dress was the finest gown she had ever made. It was pure white, with long sleeves, to protect her from the cold, and a neckline a few inches lower than she was used to. It was simple and subtle. No jewels, no gold, just Sansa, as she was.

Gretchen tied her hair back in a simple knot, ensuring no hair was to fall into her face. Sansa secured the veil into her hair and allowed it to fall over her face. This was how she had wanted to look at her first two weddings, this was how she wanted to feel.

Sansa dismissed Gretchen and waited for Varys to come and collect her. She had asked Varys to walk her down the aisle, because he had always been such a true friend to both her and Petyr.

Petyr stood with Tyrion, in his quarters. He was nervous. He secured his sword into his black tunic with shaking hands.  
"Are you excited? You should be excited." Tyrion stated, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
"Yes." Was Petyr's short reply.  
"I am nervous she will not want me." He blurted out after a second.  
"I have been waiting so long, playing the game with her for so long, that it feels strange to not have to fight anymore, not have to win her affections. I fear it is too good to be true." He sighed.  
"That is the fatalist in you speaking. You have put in the work and now it is time for you to reap the rewards. Sansa loves you and I am sure she is just as relieved as you are to not have to play games anymore." Petyr nodded, feeling a weight fall from his shoulders, knowing he would not have to fight for her anymore.

The door knocked and Sansa opened it, expecting Varys. Her eyes widened as she saw Jon stood in her doorway.  
"Jon, how are you here?" She shook her head in disbelief.  
"I could not miss this day. I have already missed two of them." He joked with her and Sansa supposed it was better to ask fewer questions, else she would worry herself.  
"I doubt I shall be walking Arya down the aisle any time soon. So I shall take pleasure in doing the service for you." He smiled down at her. He had had a haircut and a shave and he wore newly dyed clothes, blacker than charcoal. Sansa was impressed.

Gretchen had met Lord Tyrion by the doors of the hall. She had worn her finest blue dress, with capped sleeves and a high neckline. She feared the cold, but it was the best she had. Tyrion had never seen someone so captivating. Her blonde hair was worn down, her crown braided and her eyes were wide as they entered the hall. She had never witnessed such a scene. The room was decorated with the most beautiful flowers, snowdrops and lilies. She inhaled deeply, smelling their sweet scent. Tyrion could have watched her forever, in wonderment of the scenery. She was like a child, drinking everything in.

Petyr entered the hall alone. He saw Varys stood at the top of the stairs and they exchanged a smile as he walked. He had asked his friend to perform the ceremony because he knew that neither he nor Sansa were very religious. He stood and looked out at the crowd. There was a third of the amount of people they would have had in the Red Keep. Petyr now understood why she had insisted to have it here. He admired the flowers and then waited, for what felt like an eternity.

The walk to the hall was long. Sansa interlocked her arm in Jon's and they took a slow pace, so that she would not exert herself.  
"You are sure this is what you want?" Jon whispered to her. Sansa smiled, feeling she might cry.  
"Yes Jon, this shall be my final marriage, I assure you." She looked down at the ground, smiling. Jon watched her.  
"You love him, don't you?" He asked. It was very rare for a marriage in Westeros to be a love match, but it seemed his sister had gotten lucky.  
"Yes, very much so." She replied and Jon knew that she spoke the truth.

Finally, they reached the doors and Sansa took a deep breath.  
"Are you ready?" He asked and she nodded.  
"Yes, I am ready." They began walking and everyone rose. Sansa couldn't believe how beautiful the room was. The moondoor had long since been closed and flowers had been hung on the walls. This was how she had always wanted it, this was what she had not had at her previous two weddings. Her brother walking her down the aisle in a beautiful room, to meet the man she truly loved. It all seemed too much for her for a moment, but when she saw Petyr's face, she knew she could do anything.

Petyr had never seen anything as beautiful as Sansa on that day. Dressed in white, her skin flushed and her face smiling. This was the wife he had always wanted.

They met at the altar and Jon let go of Sansa, in a moment that hit him far harder than he had anticipated. Petyr removed the veil from Sansa's face and looked into the eyes of his blushing bride.

Varys could professionally ordain marriages based on his performance that day. Everyone was captivated and anyone who had doubted the match before could not look at the two of them and deny they were a good match. Sansa looked up at Petyr and said her vows and then Petyr took his turn and then it was official: Sansa was Lady Baelish and the game was over.

Once the ceremony was over, the feast began. Daenerys gave the couple her blessing and then moved to sit beside Jorah Mormont.  
"Oh to be that happy." She whispered to him.  
"Few of us are fortunate enough to be." He replied and she supposed he was right. She was not that happy when she had married Drogo. The love had grown during the marriage. She looked over at Jorah and sighed. Perhaps one day she would love him the way that Sansa loved Petyr, she hoped she would, but only time could tell.

Tormund and Brienne congratulated the couple and Sansa congratulated them for their engagement, to which Brienne's cheeks became flushed.

Jon approached Sansa.  
"I am sorry, but I must leave. The North needs me." Sansa kissed her brother on the cheeks.  
"Of course. Thank you for being here, Jon. It meant the world to me." He kissed her forehead and left. The war was being won, slowly but surely, the white walkers were being defeated by the dragon glass.

Tyrion sat with Gretchen and they spoke about the wedding and the couple.  
"You married Sansa once, did you not, my Lord." She asked and he nodded.  
"Yes, but it was a forced match. I have never married for love." He admitted.  
"Neither have I. My parents think I am a failure because I have not married yet." Gretchen admitted, looking down at her hands.  
"Do not ever think that of yourself." Tyrion told her. He knew he was going to marry this woman, if it took a day or ten years, he would win her over.

Sansa held Varys' hand.  
"I do not know how you got him here. But thank you." She squeezed his hand and he smiled.  
"It is not very often a couple can marry for love. I did my duty. You are a fine woman, Sansa." He bowed and left them.

They looked at each other now, Sansa and Petyr.  
"I love you, little wolf." He whispered to her among the throng.  
"And I you." She replied and she could not wait to begin her life with him. She wanted to be the Mother of his children, his rock to lean on. She was now his wife, which she had never dreamt of happening. She was elated. She meant what she said to Jon, this was going to be her last marriage. The world could throw whatever they liked at them: white walkers, civil wars, an unending winter, but they would stay strong. As long as she was by Petyr's side, she knew that she was where she was meant to be. She had gone through so much, endured so much pain. She had so much power now, so many responsibilities. But when she was with Petyr, she was his little wolf.

Author's Note: So this is the end. I can not believe that this story has received so much love. I am so grateful for every one of you reading it and leaving your comments and I have loved every chapter. Thank you so much.  
Love, Paige.


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